An’ there will be lads o’ the gospel,
Muirhead,[119] wha’s as gude as he’s true;
An’ there will be Buittle’s[120] apostle,
Wha’s more o’ the black than the blue;
An’ there will be folk from St. Mary’s,[121]
A house o’ great merit and note,
The deil ane but honours them highly,—
The deil ane will gie them his vote!
VII.
An’ there will be wealthy young Richard,[122]
Dame Fortune should hing by the neck;
For prodigal, thriftless, bestowing,
His merit had won him respect:
An’ there will be rich brother nabobs,
Tho’ nabobs, yet men of the first,
An’ there will be Collieston’s[123] whiskers,
An’ Quintin, o’ lads not the worst.
VIII.
An’ there will be stamp-office Johnnie,[124]
Tak’ tent how ye purchase a dram;
An’ there will be gay Cassencarrie,
An’ there will be gleg Colonel Tam;
An’ there will be trusty Kerroughtree,[125]
Whose honour was ever his law,
If the virtues were pack’d in a parcel,
His worth might be sample for a’.
IX.
An’ can we forget the auld major,
Wha’ll ne’er be forgot in the Greys,
Our flatt’ry we’ll keep for some other,
Him only ’tis justice to praise.
An’ there will be maiden Kilkerran,
And also Barskimming’s gude knight,
An’ there will be roarin’ Birtwhistle,
Wha luckily roars in the right.
X.
An’ there, frae the Niddisdale borders,
Will mingle the Maxwells in droves;
Teugh Johnnie, staunch Geordie, an’ Walie,
That griens for the fishes an’ loaves;
An’ there will be Logan Mac Douall,[126]
Sculdudd’ry an’ he will be there,
An’ also the wild Scot of Galloway,
Sodgerin’, gunpowder Blair.