And by our banners march’d Muirhead, And Buittle was na slack; Whase haly priesthood nane could stain, For wha could dye the black? And there was grave squire Cardoness, Look’d on till a’ was done; Sae in the tower o’ Cardoness A howlet sits at noon. And there led I the Bushby clan, My gamesome billie, Will, And my son Maitland, wise as brave, My footsteps follow’d still. The Douglas and the Heron’s name, We set nought to their score; The Douglas and the Heron’s name, Had felt our weight before. But Douglasses o’ weight had we, The pair o’ lusty lairds, For building cot-houses sae fam’d, And christenin’ kail-yards. And there Redcastle drew his sword, That ne’er was stain’d wi’ gore, Save on a wand’rer lame and blind, To drive him frae his door. And last cam creepin’ Collieston, Was mair in fear than wrath; Ae knave was constant in his mind— To keep that knave frae scaith. Inscription For An Altar Of Independence At Kerroughtree, the Seat of Mr. Heron. Thou of an independent mind, With soul resolv’d, with soul resign’d; Prepar’d Power’s proudest frown to brave, Who wilt not be, nor have a slave; Virtue alone who dost revere, Thy own reproach alone dost fear— Approach this shrine, and worship here. The Cardin O’t, The Spinnin O’t I coft a stane o’ haslock woo’, To mak a wab to Johnie o’t; For Johnie is my only jo, I loe him best of onie yet. Chorus—The cardin’ o’t, the spinnin’ o’t, The warpin’ o’t, the winnin’ o’t; When ilka ell cost me a groat, The tailor staw the lynin’ o’t. For tho’ his locks be lyart grey, And tho’ his brow be beld aboon, Yet I hae seen him on a day, The pride of a’ the parishen. The cardin o’t, &c. The Cooper O’ Cuddy Tune—“Bab at the bowster.” Chorus—We’ll hide the Cooper behint the door, Behint the door, behint the door, We’ll hide the Cooper behint the door, And cover him under a mawn, O. The Cooper o’ Cuddy came here awa, He ca’d the girrs out o’er us a’; An’ our gudewife has gotten a ca’, That’s anger’d the silly gudeman O. We’ll hide the Cooper, &c. He sought them out, he sought them in, Wi’ deil hae her! an’, deil hae him! But the body he was sae doited and blin’, He wist na where he was gaun O. We’ll hide the Cooper, &c. They cooper’d at e’en, they cooper’d at morn, Till our gudeman has gotten the scorn; On ilka brow she’s planted a horn, And swears that there they sall stan’ O. We’ll hide the Cooper, &c. The Lass That Made The Bed To Me When Januar’ wind was blawing cauld, As to the north I took my way, The mirksome night did me enfauld, I knew na where to lodge till day: