When check'd for this, they'd often tell ye,

    'Indeed her nainsell's a tume belly;

    You'll no gie't wanting bought, nor sell me;

                        Hersell will hae't;

    Go tell King Shorge, and Shordy's Willie,

                        I'll hae a meat.'

    I saw the soldiers at Linton-brig,

    Because the man was not a Whig,

    Of meat and drink leave not a skig,

                        Within his door;

    They burnt his very hat and wig,

                        And thump'd him sore.

    And through the Highlands they were so rude,

    As leave them neither clothes nor food,

    Then burnt their houses to conclude;

                        'T was tit for tat.

    How can her nainsell e'er be good,

                        To think on that?

    And after all, O, shame and grief!

    To use some worse than murd'ring thief,

    Their very gentleman and chief,

                        Unhumanly!

    Like Popish tortures, I believe,

                        Such cruelty.

    Ev'n what was act on open stage

    At Carlisle, in the hottest rage,

    When mercy was clapt in a cage,

                        And pity dead,

    Such cruelty approv'd by every age,

                        I shook my head.

    So many to curse, so few to pray,

    And some aloud huzza did cry;

    They cursed the rebel Scots that day,

                        As they'd been nowt

    Brought up for slaughter, as that way

                        Too many rowt.

    Therefore, alas! dear countrymen,

    O never do the like again,

    To thirst for vengeance, never ben'

                        Your gun nor pa',

    But with the English e'en borrow and len',

                        Let anger fa'.