"Nor minds na what we're gaun about,
"Or if we're gaun to heav'n or hell.
"Let us to God bequeath our souls,
"Our bodies to the dust and clay!"
With that he drew his deadly sword,
The first was drawn on field that day.
Se'en bouts and turns these heroes had,
Or e'er a drop o' blood was drawn;
Our Scotch lord, wond'ring, quickly cry'd,
"Stout Wharton! thou still hauds thy awn!"