BONNIE DUNDEE.
To the lords of Convention, 'twas Claverhouse spoke,
Ere the king's crown go down there are crowns to be broke;
Then each cavalier who loves honour and me,
Let him follow the bonnets of Bonnie Dundee.
Come fill up my cup, come fill up my can,
Come saddle my horses and call out my men,
Unhook the west port, and let us gae free,
For it's up with the bonnets of Bonnie Dundee.
Dundee he is mounted, he rides up the street,
The bells they ring backward, the drums they are beat,
But the Provost (douce man) said, "Just e'en let it be,
For the town is well rid o' that deil o' Dundee."
Come fill up my cup, come fill up my can, etc.
There are hills beyond Pentland, and lands beyond Forth;
If there's lords in the south, there are chiefs in the north,
There are brave Dunevassals, three thousand times three,
Will cry hey! for the bonnets of Bonnie Dundee.
Come fill up my cup, come fill up my can, etc.
Then awa' to the hills, to the lea, to the rocks:
Ere I own an usurper I'll crouch wi' the fox;
And tremble, false Whigs, in the midst of your glee
Ye hae no seen the last of my bonnets and me.
Come fill up my cup, come fill up my can, etc.
Sir Walter Scott.