The Morisons.


From Burnswark top to deep Glenae,1
Carlaverock bank to Drumlanrig brae,2
A bauld race ruled—the Morisons brave,3
They travelled the earth, and they stemmed the wave,4
They bore the red cross—they barefoot trod5
Jerusalem’s sands, and they gallantly rode6
In the ranks of war, when the sword had trust7
Of the Church’s fame and the martyrs’ dust8
It is rife in tale and in minstrel story,9
The Morisons’ might and the Morisons’ glory.10


But in the battle, when shafts flew thickest,11
And the Morisons sword fell sheering quickest12
But in the church, when prayers were longest,13
And the Morisons voice prayed loud and strongest14
But in the field, when the lilies were springing15
When the bridal bells were bedward ringing16
When the hunters horns were merriest blowing17
When the ladies bosoms were heaving and glowing18
In court—in camp—in church or hame19
An ancient curse still clung to their name,—20


It is sad to hear—though its brief to tell,21
How the curse that maun cling to their name befel22
It came with a lass—it maun gang wi’ a lass,23
In sorrow and shame !— and away let it pass24
This throbbing heart, and this eye in sorrow25
Shall be mute and be dry ere the sun-rise of morrow,26
And she that sings this sang o’ their shame27
Is the last of the Morisons’ lineage and name28
But rife in tale and the minstrel story29
Is the Morisons might and the Morisons glory.’30