Classic Poem

ON THE LIFTING OF THE BANNER OF THE HOUSE OF BUCCLEUCH, AT A
GREAT FOOT-BALL MATCH ON CARTERHAUGH

From the brown crest of Newark its summons extending,
Our signal is waving in smoke and in flame;
And each forester blithe, from his mountain descending,
Bounds light o'er the heather to join in the game.

Then up with the Banner, let forest winds fan her,
She has blazed over Ettrick eight ages and more;
In sport we 'll attend her, in battle defend her,
With heart and with hand, like our fathers before.

When the Southern invader spread waste and disorder,
At the glance of her crescents he paused and withdrew,
For around them were marshalled the pride of the Border,
The Flowers of the Forest, the Bands of B UCCLEUCH .

A stripling's weak hand to our revel has borne her,
No mail-glove has grasped her, no spearmen surround;
But ere a bold foeman should scathe or should scorn her
A thousand true hearts would be cold on the ground.

We forget each contention of civil dissension,
And hail, like our brethren, Home , D OUGLAS , and C AR :
And E LLIOT and P RINGLE in pastime shall mingle,
As welcome in peace as their fathers in war.

Then strip, lads, and to it, though sharp be the weather,
And if by mischance you should happen to fall,
There are worse things in life than a tumble on heather,
And life is itself but a game at football.

And when it is over we 'll drink a blithe measure
To each laird and each lady that witnessed our fun,
And to every blithe heart that took part in our pleasure,
To the lads that have lost and the lads that have won.

May the Forest still flourish, both Borough and Landward,
From the hall of the peer to the herd's ingle-nook;
And huzza! my brave hearts, for B UCCLEUCH and his standard,
For the King and the Country, the Clan and the Duke!
Then up with the Banner, let forest winds fan her,
She has blazed over Ettrick eight ages and more;
In sport we 'll attend her, in battle defend her,
With heart and with hand, like our fathers before.