Long mayst thou flourish, gallant peer,
For Caledonia owns thee dear,
And bids her fav’rite minstrel tell,
How that she loves her hero well;
Though polished mail no more shall grace,
Oh! S--tt, thy ancient chieftain race:
No more the splintered spear shall sound
On N-- --k’s green or D-- --h’s ground:
These days are past, and with them, too,
The deeds their chiefs were wont to do:
The towering plume, and nodding crest,
Have with their wearers gone to rest;
And ease and peace may now be seen
In every hamlet, wood, or green.
But nowhere are they seen so true
As round the mansion of B-- --h;
Where patriarchal peace is found,
And care in rosy liquor drowned;
Where all of this illustrious line
Together sup, together dine.
And now I’ll cease my minstrel lay,
For time it is I should give up,
But once again, D-- --h, I’ll say,
Long may you dine, long may you sup.