YE hae heard Whigs crack o’ the Saints in the Bass, my faith, a
gruesome tale;
How the Remnant paid at a tippeny rate, for a quart o’ ha’penny ale!
But I’ll tell ye anither tale o’ the Bass, that’ll hearten ye up to
hear,
Sae I pledge ye to Middleton first in a glass, and a health to the
Young Chevalier!
The Bass stands frae North Berwick Law a league or less to sea,
About its feet the breakers beat, abune the sea-maws flee,
There’s castle stark and dungeon dark, wherein the godly lay,
That made their rant for the Covenant through mony a weary day.
For twal’ years lang the caverns rang wi’ preaching, prayer, and
psalm,
Ye’d think the winds were soughing wild, when a’ the winds were calm,
There wad they preach, each Saint to each, and glower as the soldiers
pass,
And Peden wared his malison on a bonny leaguer lass,
As she stood and daffed, while the warders laughed, and wha sae blithe
as she,
But a wind o’ ill worked his warlock will, and flang her out to sea.
Then wha sae bright as the Saints that night, and an angel came, say
they,
And sang in the cell where the Righteous dwell, but he took na a Saint
away.
There yet might they be, for nane could flee, and nane daur’d break
the jail,
And still the sobbing o’ the sea might mix wi’ their warlock wail,
But then came in black echty-echt, and bluidy echty-nine,
Wi’ Cess, and Press, and Presbytery, and a’ the dule sin’ syne,
The Saints won free wi’ the power o’ the key, and cavaliers maun pine!
It was Halyburton, Middleton, and Roy and young Dunbar,
That Livingstone took on Cromdale haughs, in the last fight of the
war:
And they were warded in the Bass, till the time they should be slain,
Where bluidy Mitchell, and Blackader, and Earlston lang had lain;
Four lads alone, ’gainst a garrison, but Glory crowns their names,
For they brought it to pass that they took the Bass, and they held it
for King James!
It isna by preaching half the night, ye’ll burst a dungeon door,
It wasna by dint o’ psalmody they broke the hold, they four,
For lang years three that rock in the sea bade Wullie Wanbeard gae
swing,
And England and Scotland fause may be, but the Bass Rock stands for
the King!
There’s but ae pass gangs up the Bass, it’s guarded wi’ strong gates
four,
And still as the soldiers went to the sea, they steikit them, door by
door,
And this did they do when they helped a crew that brought their coals
on shore.
Thither all had gone, save three men alone: then Middleton gripped his
man,
Halyburton felled the sergeant lad, Dunbar seized the gunner, Swan;
Roy bound their hands, in hempen bands, and the Cavaliers were free.
And they trained the guns on the soldier loons that were down wi’ the
boat by the sea!
Then Middleton cried frae the high cliff-side, and his voice garr’d
the auld rocks ring,
‘Will ye stand or flee by the land or sea, for I hold the Bass for the
King?’
They had nae desire to face the fire; it was mair than men might do,
So they e’en sailed back in the auld coal-smack, a sorry and
shame-faced crew,
And they hirpled doun to Edinburgh toun, wi’ the story of their
shames,
How the prisoners bold had broken hold, and kept the Bass for King
James.
King James he has sent them guns and men, and the Whigs they guard the
Bass,
But they never could catch the Cavaliers, who took toll of ships that
pass,
They fared wild and free as the birds o’ the sea, and at night they
went on the wing,
And they lifted the kye o’ Whigs far and nigh, and they revelled and
drank to the King.
Then Wullie Wanbeard sends his ships to siege the Bass in form,
And first shall they break the fortress down, and syne the Rock
they’ll storm.
After twa days’ fight they fled in the night, and glad eneuch to go,
With their rigging rent, and their powder spent, and many a man laid
low.
So for lang years three did they sweep the sea, but a closer watch was
set,
Till nae food had they, but twa ounce a day o’ meal was the maist
they’d get.
And men fight but tame on an empty wame, so they sent a flag o’ truce,
And blithe were the Privy Council then, when the Whigs had heard that
news.
Twa Lords they sent wi’ a strang intent to be dour on each Cavalier,
But wi’ French cakes fine, and his last drap o’ wine, did Middleton
make them cheer,
On the muzzles o’ guns he put coats and caps, and he set them aboot
the wa’s,
And the Whigs thocht then he had food and men to stand for the
Rightfu’ Cause.
So he got a’ he craved, and his men were saved, and nane might say
them nay,
Wi’ sword by side, and flag o’ pride, free men might they gang their
way,
They might fare to France, they might bide at hame, and the better
their grace to buy,
Wullie Wanbeard’s purse maun pay the keep o’ the men that did him
defy!
Men never hae gotten sic terms o’ peace since first men went to war,
As got Halyburton, and Middleton, and Roy, and the young Dunbar.
Sae I drink to ye here, _To the Young Chevalier_! I hae said ye an
auld man’s say,
And there may hae been mightier deeds of arms, but there never was
nane sae gay!