With friendly neighbours let them live, Renown’d for wit and skill; And grace, and glory, amply give, Those now on Hebron Hill. My heart expands by lib’ral love, ’Twill with fruition fill, If pristine powers propitious prove, To all at Hebron Hill. [57] Brother of George Coughron, the celebrated mathematician, who died at Newcastle, 7th January, 1774, Aged 21. HOBBY ELLIOTT. This song is said to have been written by a Mr James Robson, Stone Mason, at Thropton, near Rothbury, who was leader of the band in the Pretender’s Army, in 1715: he wrote a Satyr on Women, and several other pieces, while confined prisoner at Preston, in Lancashire. O bonny Hobby Elliott, O canny Hobby still, O bonny Hobby Elliott, Who lives at Harlow-hill: Had Hobby acted right, As he has seldom done, He would have kiss’d his wife, And let his maid alone. THE RISING OF THE CLANS IN 1715. Though this may be considered a Scotch song, yet mentioning several Northumberland families, warrants its insertion here. Several notes and particulars illustrating it may be found in the History of the Rebellion in the year 1715, by Robert Patten, Priest of Allendale, who, though one of the Rebels, saved his life by being evidence against his associates, and writing, what he called, An Impartial Account of the Rebellion. Little wat ye wha’s coming, Little wat ye wha’s coming, Little wat ye wha’s coming, Long Tommy Lee’s a coming. Duncan’s coming, Donald’s coming, Colin’s coming, Ronald’s coming, Dougal’s coming, Lauchlan’s coming, Alaster and a’s coming. Little wat ye wha’s coming, Jock and Tam and a’s coming. Borland and his men’s coming, The Camerons and McLeans’ coming, The Gordons and McGregors’ coming, A’ the Dunywastles’ coming, Little wat ye wha’s coming, McGilvrey of Drumglass is coming. Wigton’s coming, Nithsdale’s coming, Carnwath’s coming, Kenmure’s coming, Derwentwater and Foster’s coming, Widdrington and Nairn’s coming. Little wat ye wha’s coming, Blyth Cowhill and a’s coming. The Laird of McIntosh is coming, McCarbie and McDonald’s coming, The McKenzies and McPhersons’ coming. A’ the wild McCraws’ coming. Little wat ye wha’s coming, Donald Gun and a’s coming. They gloom, they glowr, they look sae big, At ilka stroke they’ll fell a Whig; They’ll fright the fuds of the Pockpuds, For mony a buttock bare’s coming. Little wat ye wha’s coming. ON THE FIRST REBELLION.--1715. Mackintosh was a soldier brave, And of his friends he took his leave, Towards Northumberland he drew, Marching along with a jovial crew.[58] The lord Derwentwater he did say, Five hundred guineas he would lay, To fight the militia, if they would stay, But they prov’d cowards and ran away.