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Broadside entitled 'Elegy'
Has auld King Geordie slipp'd awa',
Frae ilk ane's head ?
Lament in prose, lament in rhyme,
Wi' saut tears trickling down like brime,
Our Sandy's fate, o'men the prime,
Is past remead,
M'Kay, the bravest o' our clime,
Lies cauld and dead.
Scarce could the loss o' King or Peer,
Draw frae auld Scotland sic a tear,
Or mak' her, dull and dowie, wear,
But she has lost a friend maist dear,
Through a' braid Scotland, far and wide,
He was the country's honest pride,
Ten thousand hearts stood by his side,
But waesucks for the Forth and Clyde,
A lad o' sterling worth was he,
Wha kenn'd nae what it was to flee,
He car'd nae wha the man would be,
Nor did him dread,
For honour he would fight or dee !
And noo he's dead !
Still tae his country's honour true,
And wearing still a bonnet blue,
He strove for Scotia through and through,
To fight, to bleed !
But sad's the news we've gotten noo,
O! Scotia's valiant sons, the best,
The laurels on his brow did rest,
And nane frae north, south, east or west
Could him impede,
Sae he resolv'd to try the test,
South o' the Tweed.
But time and tide nae man can stop,
For wi' grim death he couldna cope,
And Sandy's dead !
He fell, but bravely fighting fell,
While hearts do bleed,
Tho' noo he's dead !
Edinburgh ...Printed for the Stationers.
Probable date of publication:
1830 shelfmark: F.3.a.13(13a)