Where next stood, to bide the brush
The volunteers, who zealeous
Kept firing close, till near surrounded,
And by the flying horse confounded:
They suffer’d sore into this place,
No Highlander pity’d their case—
You curs’d Militia, they did swear,
What a devil did bring you here?
Ligonier’s, Husks and Cholmondelly,
Gave from them many a dreadful volley,