A Poem by William Edmondstoune Aytoun
Massacre of the Macpherson by William Edmondstoune Aytoun
William Edmondstoune Aytoun (1813-1865), Scottish poet, humorist and miscellaneous writer born in Edinburgh, only son of Roger Aytoun, a writer to the signet. Read more...
Massacre of the Macpherson
William Edmondstoune Aytoun
FHAIRSHON swore a feud
Against the clan M’Tavish—
March’d into their land
To murder and to rafish;
For he did resolve
To extirpate the vipers,
With four-and-twenty men,
And five-and-thirty pipers.
But when he had gone
Half-way down Strath-Canaan,
Of his fighting tail
Just three were remainin’.
They were all he had
To back him in ta battle:
All the rest had gone
Off to drive ta cattle.
“Fery coot!” cried Fhairshon—
So my clan disgraced is;
Lads, we ’ll need to fight
Pefore we touch ta peasties.
Here ’s Mhic-Mac-Methusaleh
Coming wi’ his fassals—
Gillies seventy-three,
And sixty Dhuinéwassels!”
“Coot tay to you, sir!
Are you not ta Fhairshon?
Was you coming here
To visit any person?
You are a plackguard, sir?
It is now six hundred
Coot long years, and more,
Since my glen was plunder’d.”
“Fat is tat you say?
Dar you cock your peaver?
I will teach you, sir,
Fat is coot pehavior!
You shall not exist
For another day more;
I will shot you, sir,
Or stap you with my claymore!”
“I am fery glad
To learn what you mention,
Since I can prevent
Any such intention.”
So Mhic-Mac-Methusaleh
Gave some warlike howls,
Trew his skhian-dhu,
An’ stuck it in his powels.
In this fery way
Tied ta faliant Fhairshon,
Who was always thought
A superior person.
Fhairshon had a son,
Who married Noah’s daughter,
And nearly spoil’d ta flood
By trinking up ta water—
Which he would have done,
I at least believe it,
Had ta mixture peen
Only half Glenlivet.
This is all my tale:
Sirs, I hope ’t is new t’ ye!
Here ’s your fery good healths,
And tamn ta whusky tuty!
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