The Great Montrose

"Through the land of my fathers the Campbells have come,The flames of their foray enveloped my home;Broad Keppoch in ruin is left to deplore,And my country is waste from the hill to the shore—Be it so! by St. Mary, there's comfort in store.

"Through the braes of Lochaber a desert he made,And Glen Roy may be lost to the plough and the spade;Though the bones of my kindred, unhonoured, unurned.Mark the desolate path where the Campbells have burned—Be it so! From that foray they never returned."