The False Alarm. 1803

On the crest of Dunselaw the red beacon is blazing, That startles the swan as she sails in Henpoo’! Home Castle and Hounam the signals are raising, And far gleams St Abb o’er the waves curling blue. Arm, arm! gallant yeomen! to meet the fierce foeman, His eagles are planted on Lothian’s fair shore; Your cities are burning, your maidens are mourning, To victory march, as your fathers of yore.

Come from the Ettrick, the Tweed, and the Teviot; Come from where Leader and Whitadder gleams; Come from the sylvan Jed; come from the Cheviot, Fierce as the thunder-cloud, pure as your streams. Swear by the cairns of your hills ere you leave them— Swear by the heroes in Freedom’s cause slain, That your swords will be bared until victory sheathe them, If e’er you return to your mountains again.

On the dark heights of Cheviot her sabres are glancing, With Hagerston’s horsemen in battle array, While Berwickshire’s legions are blithely advancing, And Selkirk and Roxburgh rush to the fray. From Lammermoor’s heather the warriors gather, Their swords though a thousand, their hearts are but one; While Dunse and Dunbar send their sons to the war, To join British veterans led on by brave Don.

Return to your revels and beauty’s fair charms; Return, gallant yeomen! where peace beams serene; Those signals were but patriotic alarms, The foes whom you seek now repose by the Seine. But should foreign ranks ever tread the Tweed’s banks, Or a hostile Flotilla in Forth ever lie, You will rush to the shore as your fathers of yore, And like patriots conquer, or patriots die!