As M.P.’s rush to chase the grouse
When Prorogation clears the House,
So the mare runs, the witches follow,
With many an eldritch shriek and hollow.
Ah, Weg! ah, Weg! they’re nearing, nearing,
Like hounds on trail of a red herring.
Midlothian, Weg, awaits thy coming;
They’ll think you’re lost, dear Weg, or humming,
Now, ride thy very hardest, Weg!
If the bridge key-stane fees her leg,