3
They turn’d their backs, the foot they brake,
such terror seized them a’ man,
Some wet their cheeks some fyl’d their breeks,
and some for fear did fa‘ man.
The volunteers prick’d up their ears,
and vow but they were crouse man;
But when the bairns they saw’t turn to earn’st,
they were not worth a louse man,
Maist feck gaed hame, O fy for shame,
they’d better staid awa man;
Then wi’ cockade-to make parade
and do nae good at a‘ man,
Monteath the great, when hersel’ shot,
un‘wares did ding him o’er man,
Yet wad nae stand to bear a hand,
but aff did flee like stour man;
O’er Soutra-hill e‘er he stood still,
before he tasted meat man;
Troth he may brag of his sweet nag,
that bare him aff sae sleet man.
And Seaton keen to clear the een,
of rebels far in wrang man;
Did never strive wi’ pistols five,
