The large farmers will be like sportful birds,
And the lairds as poor as the sparrows—
There’s a blessing in handsome honesty
And curses in the shedding of blood.
When the stern Castle of Kilcoy
Shall stand cold and empty,
And the jackdaws and the rooks
Are artfully flying past it,
A loathsome man shall then dwell
Beside it, indecent and filthy,