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a small story for you to ponder

A Bold Reever n’ Laird

A bold n’ knowing man ‘e were
as like ta fight ya as buy ye a round
n’ one who would stand firm ‘is ground
though sometimes in a dizzy blur

Eyes as like grey flint, ‘ard enough ta give chills
and yet wid a merry twinkle n’ a ready laff
‘e was not the sort ya made mad unless ye were daff
for hit were truth that in ta war ‘e had many kills

‘e made ’is name n’ took his loot
built a fine house n’ bought a title grand
a Laird of some means, n’ fair a hand
so many thought ‘im a right gent ta boot

N’ when the English came n’ raise merry hell
hit were ‘im what called us together a night
and we’d carry hit ta the bastards n’ a right fight
taking their measure before ta first morning bell

‘unted ‘e were, n’ ‘unting did ‘e in return
fer ‘e were o’ dis land n’ stood by ‘er in ta need
n’ they cames ta fear ’im, a wily foe among ta weeds
n’ deir anger ‘n need ta cotch ‘im did brightly burn

Awalk’n amid dem by day, ‘e raged across ta nights
n’ ta red coated bastards came t’ dread ta coming o’ dark
when things went bump n’ ta night, n’ hit were dread n’ stark
for ‘e owned ta night, n’ set ‘is hand upon dem a rights

‘E used ta land ta fit ‘is ends, n’ dey ‘ated it
outwitten dem each n’ every time ‘e did
fer hit were ‘is mind against them, ‘is ta bid
n’ so his story his bold as it hit should fit

So learn yer ‘istory, n’ remember it wid pride
fer hits filled wid stories a grand n’ bold
o’ men a iron who took fate in der own hands ta hold
Remember the Swamp Fox n’ ‘is bold night rides