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Jacobite Songs 147
By strangers we are rob'd and kill'd,
That ye must plainly grant, Sir,
Whose coffers with our wealth are cramm'd,
Whilst we must starve for want, Sir.
Can ye compare your K g to mine,
Your G die and your W lie ?
Comparisons are odious,
A bramble to a lilie.
Your P ce's mother was a whore,
This ye cannot deny, Sir ;
Or why liv'd she in yonder tour,
Confin'd there 'till she died, Sir.
Can ye compare your Queen to mine ?
I know ye're not so silly ;
Comparisons are odious,
A docken to a lilie.
His son is a poor matchless sot,
His own papa ne'er lov'd him :
And F kie is an idiot,
As they can swear who prov'd him.
Can ye compare your P ce to mine,
Your F kie and your W lie ?
Comparisons are odious,
A mushroom to a lilie,
[This is a version of Hogg's The Rebellious Crew (Relics, i. 112). Hogg copied
this song from an '
old printed ballad which I found among Mr. Walter Scott's
original Jacobite papers' (Relics, i. 284). Hogg probably softened the language
of our stanza vi., and, in the third line from the end, wrote
in place of our
'A thing so dull and silly,'
* Your Feckie and your Willie.']
A SONG
AND from home I wou'd be,
And from home I wou'd be,
And from home I wou'd be,
To some foreign country.
To tarry for a while,
'Till heav'n think fit to smile ;
Bring our K g from exile
To his own country.
God save our lawful K g,
And from danger set him free ;
May the Scots, English, and Irish,
Flock to him speedily :