with critical observations and biographical notices, by Robert Burns

141
O fy for shame, ye're three for ane,
Hur nane-selFs won the day, man
King Shames' red-coats should be hung up.
Because they ran awa' then
Had bent their brows, hke highland trows,
And made as lang a stay, man,
They'd sav'd their king, that sacred thing,
And Willie'd ^ run' awa' then.
THE EWIE Wl' THE CROOKIT HORN.
Another excellent song of old Skinner*$.
Were I but able to rehearse
My Ewie's praise in proper verse,
I'd sound it forth as loud and fierce
As ever piper's drone could blaw;
The Ewie wi' the crookit horn,
Wha had kent her might hae sworn
Sic a Ewe was never born.
Hereabout nor far awa',
Sic a Ewe was never bore.
Hereabout nor far awa'.
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