Yet thanks be unto Queensberry, For his good will in serving me. I Milton Maxwell must commend, Ten Whigs at once he did condemn, And after that he did devote Himself my kingdom to promote. M’Cartney he did apprehend, Brought him to an untimous end. He plagued the presbyterians sore, That dwelt on the water of Orr, For Corsack’s house he rifled bare, And neither nurse nor bairn did spare, But thurst them out from house and hold, To hunger them exposed and cold; He did leave nothing in that house That was to him of any use; The horse, the colt, the corn, the sheep, He every thing away did sweep. He rang’d through like a greedy thief, Took butter, cheese, mutton, and beef; The puddings he did scarcely spare, For every thing away he bear. Of cloth and clothes silver and gold, He took far more than can be told: The blackest sight that country saw, Worse than Pate Barley or John Faw. All his zeal was mixt with self, He very greedy was of pelf. Yet all he took but short time lasted, The Whigs did say that it was blasted, For all his offspring that remain Have none of his well gotten gain. When I perceiv’d that it was gone, I out of pity brought him home, Now Whigs may sleep in a sound skin, They’ll never get mair skaith of him. My friends that were of lower note, In justice should not be forgot, As Allison, who here did dree A hell on earth for pleasing me. Bonshaw more fierce than I can tell, Who bade some send the Whigs to hell; And my beloved Kennaway Who plagu’d the hill men every day. ’Bove twenty journeys in one year This varlet willingly did go, To hasten the fanatic’s woe Strahan Murray and Annandale. Who in my cause had great zeal, Drummond, Stretton and bloody Reid, Who shot my foes till they were dead, Buchan, Inglis, and Westerhall, Balfour and others great and small. Stenhouse, Maitland and Bollochmiln, Culzean and Windrum, men of skill. Crichton, Lauder, and many more, Who sought the hill-men’s overthrow. Halton, who did himself perjure, To bring Mitchel to an ill hour. Lowrie of Maxwelton also. Unto these wild men was a foe. And so was Carick of Stewarton, Bailie, and these gave Smith his doom. And all the bishops in the land, Were ready still at my command, My statutes for to execute, On all whom I did persecute. Dumbarton, Bruce, and Rob Dalziel, And other worthies I could tell, As Ezekiel Montgomery. The bloodiest monster that could be, And that vile wretch call’d sheriff Hume, That was right worthy of his room; And old tree-legged Duncan Grant, Who of his wickedness did vaunt.