If they rob us of name and pursue us with beagles, Give their roofs to the flame and their flesh to the eagles! Then vengeance, vengeance, vengeance, Gregalich! Vengeance, vengeance, vengeance, etc. While there’s leaves in the forest, and foam on the river, Mac Gregor, despite them, shall flourish for ever! Come then, Gregalich; come then, Gregalich; Come then, come then, come then, etc. Through the depths of Loch Katrine the steed shall career, O’er the peaks of Ben Lomond the galley shall steer, And the rocks of Craig Royston like icicles melt, Ere our wrongs be forgot or our vengeance unfelt. Then gather, gather, gather, Gregalich! Gather, gather, gather, etc.” “_CABER FEIDH._” One of the most stirring of pipe tunes is _Caber Feidh_, composed by Norman Mac Leod, a native of Assynt, Sutherlandshire. The Earl of Sutherland gave a commission to William Munroe, of Achany, who, with a large body of retainers, descended on Assynt and carried off much plunder. His excursion was in the latter end of summer, when the cattle were grazing in distant pastures, and Achany plundered the sheilings and stole a considerable amount of butter and cheese. Indignant at this, Mac Leod composed the tune and song which became the clan song of the Mac Kenzies. He made it the vehicle of invective and bitter sarcasm against the Sutherlands and Munroes. The “victims” were very sore about the production, and Munroe threatened the bard’s life if they should meet. They were personally unacquainted, but they did meet in Ardgay Inn. Mac Leod was enjoying bread and butter and cheese and ale, and he knew Munroe by the colour of his bonnet, which was always grey, though Munroe did not know him. Mac Leod drank to Munroe with great promptitude, and then offered him the horn, remarking in Gaelic:— “Bread and butter and cheese to me Ere death my mouth shall close, And, traveller, there’s drink for thee To please the black Munroes.” Achany was pleased, drank the ale, and when he had discovered who the courteous stranger was he forgave him _Caber Feidh_, and ever after they were good friends. Years later the poet’s young son, Angus, then a licentiate, waited on Achany relative to the filling up of a vacancy in Rogart Parish Church. “And so you really think,” said Munroe, “I would use my influence to get a living for your father’s son. _Caber Feidh’s_ not forgotten yet.” “No, and never will,” replied Mac Leod, “but if I get the parish of Rogart I promise you it will never be sung or recommended from the pulpit there.” “Thank you,” said Achany, “that is one important point gained. You are not so bad as your father after all, and we must try and get the place for you.” And he gave young Mac Leod a letter to Dunrobin which got him the living.