To Achnacarie came full right,
Through water to their cleavings high,
Dark was the night, they could not see.
Upon the morrow they kill’d a cow,
Whereof they fill’d their bellies fu’,
Without bread, salt or sallad,
Sweet hunger relished their palate;
They told the flesh, bread was before,
And thankful were they had such store,
The country being burnt, and plunder’d,