To Skirving is also attributed with great probability the excellent satirical song of Johnnie Cope, or Cope are you waking yet. The original words are in Ritson, Scotish Songs, ii. 84: another set at p. 82: a third, with alterations and additions by Burns, in Johnson's Museum, p. 242. Allan Cunningham once heard a peasant boast that he could sing Johnnie Cope with all its nineteen variations. See [Appendix].
The battle took place on the 22d of September, 1745, between the villages of Tranent and Prestonpans, a few miles from Edinburgh. The king's lieutenant-general, Sir John Cope, was disgracefully defeated by the Highlanders under Charles Edward, and nearly all his army killed or taken. The details of the conflict are vividly described in the 46th and 47th chapters of Waverley.
The Chevalier, being void of fear,
Did march up Birsle brae, man,
And thro' Tranent, e'er he did stent,
As fast as he could gae, man:
While General Cope did taunt and mock,5
Wi' mony a loud huzza, man;
But e'er next morn proclaim'd the cock,
We heard another craw, man.
The brave Lochiel, as I heard tell,
Led Camerons on in clouds, man;10
The morning fair, and clear the air,
They loos'd with devilish thuds, man.
Down guns they threw, and swords they drew
And soon did chace them aff, man;
On Seaton-Crafts they buft their chafts,15
And gart them rin like daft, man.
The bluff dragoons swore blood and 'oons,
They'd make the rebels run, man;
And yet they flee when them they see,
And winna fire a gun, man:20
They turn'd their back, the foot they brake,
Such terror seiz'd them a', man;
Some wet their cheeks, some fyl'd their breeks,
And some for fear did fa', man.
The volunteers prick'd up their ears,25
And vow gin they were crouse, man;
But when the bairns saw't turn to earn'st,
They were not worth a louse man.
Maist feck gade hame; O fy for shame!
They'd better stay'd awa', man,30
Than wi' cockade to make parade,
And do nae good at a', man.
[Menteith] the great, when hersell sh—,
Un'wares did ding him o'er man;
Yet wad nae stand to bear a hand,35
But aff fou fast did scour, man;
O'er Soutra hill, e'er he stood still,
Before he tasted meat, man:
Troth he may brag of his swift nag,
That bare him aff sae fleet, man.40
And [Simpson] keen, to clear the een
Of rebels far in wrang, man,
Did never strive wi' pistols five,
But gallop'd with the thrang, man:
He turn'd his back, and in a crack45
Was cleanly out of sight man;
And thought it best; it was nae jest
W' Highlanders to fight, man.