| It was in the days when Claverhouse |
| Was scouring moor and glen, |
| To change, with fire and bloody sword, |
| The faith of Scottish men. |
| |
| They had made a covenant with the Lord |
| Firm in their faith to bide, |
| Nor break to Him their plighted word, |
| Whatever might betide. |
| |
| The sun was well-nigh setting, |
| When o'er the heather wild, |
| And up the narrow mountain-path, |
| Alone there walked a child. |
| |
| He was a bonny, blithesome lad, |
| Sturdy and strong of limb— |
| A father's pride, a mother's love, |
| Were fast bound up in him. |
| |
| His bright blue eyes glanced fearless round, |
| His step was firm and light; |
| What was it underneath his plaid |
| His little hands grasped tight? |
| |
| |
| It was bannocks which, that very morn, |
| His mother made with care. |
| From out her scanty store of meal; |
| And now, with many a prayer, |
| |
| Had sent by Jamie her ane boy, |
| A trusty lad and brave, |
| To good old Pastor Tammons Roy, |
| Now hid in yonder cave, |
| |
| And for whom the bloody Claverhouse |
| Had hunted long in vain, |
| And swore they would not leave that glen |
| Till old Tam Roy was slain. |
| |
| So Jamie Douglas went his way |
| With heart that knew no fear; |
| He turned the great curve in the rock, |
| Nor dreamed that death was near. |
| |
| And there were bloody Claverhouse men, |
| Who laughed aloud with glee, |
| When trembling now within their power, |
| The frightened child they see. |
| |
| He turns to flee, but all in vain, |
| They drag him back apace |
| To where their cruel leader stands, |
| And set them face to face. |
| |
| The cakes concealed beneath his plaid |
| Soon tell the story plain— |
| "It is old Tam Roy the cakes are for," |
| Exclaimed the angry man. |
| |
| "Now guide me to his hiding place |
| And I will let you go." |
| But Jamie shook his yellow curls, |
| And stoutly answered—"No!" |
| |
| "I'll drop you down the mountain-side, |
| And there upon the stones |
| The old gaunt wolf and carrion crow |
| Shall battle for your bones." |
| |
| And in his brawny, strong right hand |
| He lifted up the child, |
| And held him where the clefted rocks |
| Formed a chasm deep and wild |
| |
| So deep it was, the trees below |
| Like stunted bushes seemed. |
| Poor Jamie looked in frightened maze, |
| It seemed some horrid dream. |
| |
| He looked up at the blue sky above |
| Then at the men near by; |
| Had they no little boys at home, |
| That they could let him die? |
| |
| But no one spoke and no one stirred, |
| Or lifted hand to save |
| From such a fearful, frightful death, |
| The little lad so brave. |
| |
| "It is woeful deep," he shuddering cried, |
| "But oh! I canna tell, |
| So drop me down then, if you will— |
| It is nae so deep as hell!" |
| |
| A childish scream, a faint, dull sound, |
| Oh! Jamie Douglas true, |
| Long, long within that lonely cave |
| Shall Tam Roy wait for you. |
| |
| Long for your welcome coming |
| Waits the mother on the moor, |
| And watches and calls, "Come, Jamie, lad," |
| Through the half-open door. |
| |
| No more adown the rocky path |
| You come with fearless tread, |
| Or, on moor or mountain, take |
| The good man's daily bread. |
| |
| But up in heaven the shining ones |
| A wondrous story tell, |
| Of a child snatched up from a rocky gulf |
| That is nae so deep as hell. |
| |
| |
| And there before the great white throne, |
| Forever blessed and glad, |
| His mother dear and old Tam Roy |
| Shall meet their bonny lad. |
