WHERE are the days that we have seen,
When PhÅ“bus shone fu’ bright, man,
Days when fu’ merry we have been,
When every one had right man;
Now gloomy clouds do overshade,
And spread wide over a’, man,
Ill boding comets blaze o’er head,
O whirry whigs awa’, man.

Now ill appears with face fu’ bare,
‘Mong high and low degree, man,
And great confusion every where,
Which every day we see, man;
A blind man’s chosen for a guide,
If they get not a fa’ man,
There’s none needs wonder if they slide,
O whirry whigs awa’, man.

We are divided as you see,
A sad and dreadful thing, man,
‘Twixt malice, pride, and presbytery,
And Satan leads the ring, man:
Our nation’s under misery,
And slavery with a’ man,
Yet deaf’d with din of liberty,
O whirry whigs awa’, man.

Our decent gowns are all put down,
Dare scarcely now be seen, man,
Geneva frocks take up their room,
Entitled to the tiends, man;
Who cant and speak the most discreet,
And say they love the law, man,
Yet are a pack of hypocrites,
O whirry whigs awa’, man.

Of primitive simplicity,
Which in our church was left, man,
Of truth and peace with prelacy,
Alas! we are bereft, man;
Instead of true humility,
And unity with a’ man,
Confusion’s mither presbytery,
Now spawns her brats thro’ a’ man.

The Lord’s prayer and the creed,
With glore to trinity, man,
New start-ups all these things exclude
And call them popery, man,
Rebellion’s horn they loudly tout,
With whinning tone and bla, man,
And leave the means of grace without;
O whirry whigs awa’, man.

Yet creed and Lord’s prayer too,
The true blue folks of old, man,
Ye know believed to be true,
And promised to hold, man.
But having proved false to God,
Traitors to kings with a’, man,
They never by their word abode;
O whirry whigs awa’, man.

To speak a little of our kings
In middle of our song, man,
You may consider several things,
And point where I am wrong man;
To tell the truth and verity,
Of none I stand in awe, man,
What others have declar’d to me;
O whirry whigs awa’, man.

By cunning rebels groundless strife,
Stark malice and envy, man,
King Charles the first he lost his life,
For this thank presbytery, man;
His wife and bairns banished.
Condemned by their own law, man,
To foreign lands to beg their bread,
O whirry whigs awa’, man.

Then having martyr’d that good king,
They wisely did agree, man,
That Cromwell in his stead should reign,
And Whigs anointed be, man;
That mushroom like to presbytery,
Establish’d it o’er a’, man,
And overturned prelacy;
O whirry whigs awa’, man.

Then peace and plenty we had none,
But endless jarrs and strife, man,
Before that monster’s race was run,
Great numbers lost the life, man.
For all his strength, attack’d by death,
At length he trump’d his wa’, man,
He threw him down and stopt his breath;
O whirry whigs awa’, man.

Montrose conveen’d the gallant Graham,
For the royal right arose, man,
Againt the covenanted lambs.
And did the same oppose, man;

At Alford, Oldearn and Kilsyth,
Their backs did soundly cla, man,
The loyal hearts like sheep did drive
The rebel Whigs awa, man.
With few but royal to his praise,
To thousands chase he gave, man,
His likewas not since Wallace days,
For conduck, courage, brave, man.

Wherever he heard of rebels horse,
On them with speed did fa’, man,
He thought himself a happy corse,
Who could get first awa’, man.
But Huntly with the Gordons proud,
Deserted him in’s need, man.
The ruling pow’r cause not allow’d,
And much mischief did breed, man.

At Philip Haugh he was defeat,
His men in field did fa’, man,
Yet made a glorious retreat,
Till better days he saw, man.
The Assine laird, that treacherous loon,
Beguil’d him by a wile man,
And carried him to Edinburgh town,
Where quart er’d was Argyle, man.

And being tried by lawless crew,
Sentenced was to die, man,
His headset on the Nether Bow,
Proclaim’d Whigs loyalty, man,
Our prince in peace restor’d again,
To these our mourning isles, man,
Montrose head from the port took down,
And set up gly’d Argyle’s, man.

Sent thro’ the land his quarter’d corpse,
To rebels dead that saw, man.
Example for all bloody rogues,
O whirry whigs awa’, man.

For after Oliver was dead,
And we from bondage free, man,
King Charles the second, this right claim’d,
And rul’d the nations three, man.
Like a true Stuart rul’d the roast,
And kept the Whigs in awe, man
Made rebel subject to their cost,
O whirry whigs awa’, man.

The nine-and-twenty day of May
He came to Yarmouth shore, man.
To see our church in such decay,
His heart was never so sore, man.
Abolish’d the curst covenant,
He lov’d it not at a’, man,
Restor’d our ancient government,
O whirry whigs awa’, man.

Then we had plenty, truth and peace,
Our days in mirth we spent, man,
Rebellious contests then did cease,
Yet Whigs were never content, man,
But treason and conspiracy,
Contriv’d, and stood no awe, man,
Of God, and his royal majesty,
O whirry whigs awa’, man.

These restless Whigs with their intrigues,
Themselves they did conveen, man,
At Pentland hills and Bothwell bridges,
To fight against the king, man.
Till brave Dalzeal came on a call,
True loyalists with a’, man,
To try a match ‘twixt powder and ball,
And saints turn’d windle straws, man.

This brave Dalzeal stood in the field,
And fought for king and crown, man,
Made rebel Whigs perforce to yield,
Rejoic’d to ding them down, man.
For twa fac’d Whigs they ran and fled.
And some in field did fa’, man,
And others unto death were laid,
Condemn’d by their own law, man.

But soon a sad and doleful cry
Was heard in every place, man,
Our sovereign king did from us die,
Sair may we rue the race, man,
For since we lost that matchless prince,
These rebels and their law, man,
Might make us wise by experience,
O whirry whigs awa’, man.

King Charles being dead and gone,
Which sadly I declare, man,
His brother James did mount the throne,
He was the nearest heir, man.
But he did reign but three years bare,
Till beaten from his throne, man,
And then rejoic’d that wicked race
Of Whigs that he was gone, man.

An Orange next from Holland came,
That played with parties baith man,
Whigs set up him, he set up them,
Did us a world of skaith man.
When he came o’er our king to be,
His own father-in-law, man,
By his Dutch guards he drove to sea,
Then swore he ran awa’, man.

With Whigs he was so much at one,
To them he proved right kind, man,
His great-grandfather’s martyrdom,
Came never in his mind, man.
All that loved the royal race,
He favoured not at a’, man,
But stript them both of power and place,
O whirry whigs awa’, man.

Our worthy bishops he dang down,
Opprest our church and state, man,
And set up start-ups of their own,
By Dutchcraft and deceit, man.
The thirteen years that he did reign,
We had no peace nor law, man,
But Whigs as Willie played to sing,
O whirry whigs awa’, man.

A famine seven years prevail’d,
The people pale-faced grew, man,
By dearth and death they were assail’d,
Which thousands overthrew, man.
The victual was sae dear and scant,
We found no help at a’, man.
Both young and old fell down for want,
O whirry whigs awa’, man.

But Willie’s latter end did come,
He broke his collar bone, man,
We cho’se a better, royal Anne,
And set her on the throne, man.
And then we had both seed and bread,
And plenty over a’, man,
We had no scarcity of food,
O whirry whigs awa’, man.

Now wicked England did invent,
To make an unity, man,
To which the Whigs did soon consent,
When promis’d presbytery, man.
I wish they had been in their graves,
Who did the letters draw, man,
These whinning knaves have made us slaves,
O whirry whigs awa’, man.

Next came the abjuration oath,
To swear and then subscrive, man,
The Whigs heard word and were not leath,
Assembled their belyve, man.
Their plural number did appear,
None did himself withdraw, man,
They scrupled not at once to swear
Twenty cross oaths and twa, man.

Our royal Queen being dead and gone,
Increased was our woe, man,
Our mourning days cannot be done,
We’er now brought very law, man.
And left in grief without relief,
And little hopes at a’, man,
Old Albion suffers much mischief,
O whirry whigs awa’, man.

We then sought out a German thing,
Call’d to grace the throne, man,
Then for the beggars he did bring,
Sore taxes were laid on, man,
Even heavy burdens on our malt,
And ale by shift call’d law, man,
On leather, candles, soap, and salt,
O whirry whigs awa’, man.

Some nobles grieved with this yoke,
Rais’d an intestine war, man,
And having their late oaths forsook,
Flock’d to the Earl of Mar, man,
For one call’d the Pretender stood,
And forces both did draw, man,
But long those brave men have not stood,
O whirry whigs awa’, man.

They were defeat at Sheriff Muir,
And Preston in one day, man,
Argyle pursu’d them in the rear,
They fled without delay, man.
With prisoners the gaols were throng’d,
They could not win awa’, man,
Depriv’d of all that them belong’d,
O whirry whigs awa’, man.

When George the first went God knows where,
His son comes now the last, man,
And wholly moves the British sphere,
Sae our best days are past, man.
Whose fault it is I cannot tell,
Our liberty’s awa’, man,
Our ancient rights for gold they sell,
O whirry whigs awa’, man.

Our honour’s gone, our trade is sunk,
By knaves at court so false, man,
Our gold pack’d up in Walpole’s trunk,
Which melted down his halse, man.
O may it be, and his memory,
And of his hirelings a’, man,
Be curst to a’ posterity,
O whirry whigs awa’, man.

But cripple tho’ I’ll see the day,
I hope to Whigs disgrace, man,
That Spain shall yield of sea the sway,
And humbly beg for peace, man.
All evil banish’d from the throne,
Our church restor’d with a’, man,
Then blythly shall we sing, they’re gone,
O whirry whigs awa’, man.

— attributed to George Hacket, schoolmaster in the parish of Rathan, Aberdeenshire.

Published by Christian Clay Columba Campbell

Christian Clay Columba Campbell is a Roman Catholic of the Anglican Use. As Senior Warden of the Cathedral of the Incarnation (Orlando, FL), he organised the process by which the parish accepted the Apostolic Constitution Anglicanorum coetibus, petitioning to join the Catholic Church. The Anglican Cathedral is now the Church of the Incarnation in the Personal Ordinariate of the Chair of St. Peter. Personal queries should be directed to me at eccentricbliss dot com.

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