Then up with the banner, let forest winds fan her,
She has blazed over Ettrick eight ages and more;
In sport we’ll attend her, in battle defend her,
With heart and with hand, like our fathers’ before.
When the southern invader spread waste and disorder,
At the glance of her crescents he paus’d and withdrew
For around them were marshal’d the pride of the border,
The flowers of the forest, the bands of Buccleuch.
Then up with the banner, &c.
A stripling’s weak hand to our revel has borne her,
No mail glove has grasp’d her, no spearmen around;
But ere a bold foeman should scathe or should scorn her,
A thousand true hearts would be cold on the ground.
Then up with the banner, &c.
We forget each contention of civil dissension,
And hail, like our brethren, Home, Douglas, and Car;
And Elliot and Pringle in pastime shall mingle,
As welcome in peace as their fathers in war.
Then up with the banner, &c.
Then strip lads, and to it, though sharp be the weather,
And if, by mischance, you should happen to fall,
There are worse things in life than a tumble on heather,
And life is itself but a game at foot-ball!
Then up with the banner, &c.
And when it is over, we’ll drink a blythe measure
To each laird and each lady that witness’d our fun,
And to every blythe heart that took part in our pleasure,
To the lads that have lost and the lads that have won.
Then up with the banner, &c.
May the forest still flourish, both borough and landward
From the hall of the peer to the herd’s ingle nook;
And huzza! my brave hearts, for Buccleuch and his standard
For the king and the country, the clan and the duke!
Then up with the banner, &c.
QUOTH THE SHERIFF OF THE FOREST
Abbotsford, Dec. 1, 1815.