Ban and Arriere Ban: A Rally of Fugitive Rhymes

So for lang years three did they sweep the sea, but a closer watch was set,

Till nae food had they, but twa ounce a day o’ meal was the maist they’d get.

And men fight but tame on an empty wame, so they sent a flag o’ truce,

And blithe were the Privy Council then, when the Whigs had heard that news.

Twa Lords they sent wi’ a strang intent to be dour on each Cavalier,

But wi’ French cakes fine, and his last drap o’ wine, did Middleton make them cheer,

On the muzzles o’ guns he put coats and caps, and he set them aboot the wa’s,

And the Whigs thocht then he had food and men to stand for the Rightfu’ Cause.

So he got a’ he craved, and his men were saved, and nane might say them nay,

Wi’ sword by side, and flag o’ pride, free men might they gang their way,

They might fare to France, they might bide at hame, and the better their grace to buy,

Wullie Wanbeard’s purse maun pay the keep o’ the men that did him defy!