Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/Back Again

Back Again.

When Abercromby, gallant Scot,
 Made Britain's faes to tack again,
To fight by him it was my lot;
 But now I'm safe come back again.

The cannons didna Donald fleg,—
 I'd like to hear them crack again;
My fears were for my bonnie Meg,
 Lest I should ne'er come back again.

Our leader fell,—so died the brave,
 We'll never see his like again;
I was denied a soldier's grave,
 For I am safe come back again.

It's true they've ta'en frae me a leg,
 But wha for that would mak' a maen?
Cheer up your heart, my bonnie Meg,
 I've brought a leal heart back again.

And though the wound it carried smart,
 And twitched me sair wi' rackin' pain,
Wi' honour's scars I wadna part,
 Nor yet my leg take back again.

Cheer up your heart since I am here,
 Wi' smiles your cheek gae deck again;
Cheer up, my lass, an' dinna fear,
 Your Donald's safe come back again.

Though mony a rattlin' blast has blawn,
 There's plenty in the stack again;
My wee lock siller's a' your ain
 Now sin' I'm safe come back again.

Now may the wars for ever cease,
 Your heart nae mair to rack again;
And may we live in love and peace,
 Sin' Donald's safe come back again.

But should my country call me forth
 Her freedom to protect again,
Claymore in hand I'd leave the North,
 If I should ne'er come back again.