; approag fellers:
the whigs e on like o's roar,
when all his wintry billows pour
against the bu bullers.
lo, from the shades of death's deep night,
departed whigs enjoy the fight,
and think on former daring:
the muffled murtherer of charles
the magna charter fg unfurls,
all deadly gules its bearing.
nor wanting ghosts of tory fame;
bold scrimgeour follows galnt graham;
auld anters shiver—
five! five! much-wrong'd montrose!
now death and hell engulph thy foes,
thou liv'st on high for ever.
still o'er the field the bat
Election Ballad(8/11)