Robert Allan

The Martyrs’ Hill

THERE ’s nae Covenant now, lassie!
  There ’s nae Covenant now!
The Solemn League and Covenant
  Are a’ broken through!
There ’s nae Renwick now, lassie,
  There ’s nae gude Cargill,
Nor holy Sabbath preaching
  Upon the Martyrs’ Hill!

It ’s naething but a sword, lassie,
  A bluidy, bluidy ane!
Waving owre poor Scotland,
  For her rebellious sin.
Scotland ’s a’ wrang, lassie,
  Scotland ’s a’ wrang,—
It ’s neither to the hill nor glen,
  Lassie, we daur gang.

The Martyrs’ Hill ’s forsaken
  In simmer’s dusk sae calm;
There ’s nae gathering now, lassie,
  To sing the e’ening psalm!
But the martyrs’ grave will rise, lassie,
  Aboon the warrior’s cairn;
An’ the martyr soun’ will sleep, lassie,
  Aneath the waving fern!