The town may be clouted and pieced, till it meets
A' neebours benorth and besouth, without haltin';
Brigs may be biggit ower lums and ower streets,
The Nor' Loch itsel' heapêd heigh as the Calton.
But whar is true friendship, and whar will you see,
A' that is gude, honest, modest, and thrifty?
Tak' gray hairs and wrinkles, and hirple wi' me,
And think on the seventeen hundred and fifty.
BANNOCKS O' BARLEY MEAL.[103]
Air—"Bannocks o' Barley Meal."
Argyle is my name, and you may think it strange
To live at a court, and yet never to change;
To faction, or tyranny, equally foe,
The good of the land 's the sole motive I know.
The foes of my country and king I have faced,
In city or battle I ne'er was disgraced;
I 've done what I could for my country's weal,
Now I 'll feast upon bannocks o' barley meal.
Ye riots and revels of London, adieu!
And folly, ye foplings, I leave her to you!
For Scotland, I mingled in bustle and strife;
For myself, I seek peace and an innocent life:
I 'll haste to the Highlands, and visit each scene,
With Maggie, my love, in her rockley o' green;
On the banks of Glenary what pleasure I 'll feel,
While she shares my bannock o' barley meal!
And if it chance Maggie should bring me a son,
He shall fight for his king, as his father has done;
I 'll hang up my sword with an old soldier's pride—
O! may he be worthy to wear 't on his side.
I pant for the breeze of my loved native place;
I long for the smile of each welcoming face;
I 'll aff to the Highlands as fast 's I can reel,
And feast upon bannocks o' barley meal.