V.

My sister Kate cam up the gate Wi' crowdie unto me, man; She swore she saw some rebels run Frae Perth unto Dundee, man: Their left-hand general had nae skill, The Angus lads had nae good-will That day their neebors' blood to spill; For fear, by foes, that they should lose Their cogs o' brose--they scar'd at blows. And so it goes, you see, man.