What dost thou in that mansion fair?Flit, Galloway, and findSome narrow, dirty, dungeon cave,The picture of thy mind.
No Stewart art thou, Galloway,The Stewarts ’ll were brave;Besides, the Stewarts were but fools,Not one of them a knave.
Bright ran thy line, O Galloway,Thro’ many a far-fam’d sire!So ran the far-famed Roman way,And ended in a mire.
Spare me thy vengeance, Galloway!In quiet let me live:I ask no kindness at thy hand,For thou hast none to give.