Sir John Cope trod to the north right far, Yet ne'er a rebel he came naur, Until he landed at Dunbar, Right early in the morning. CHORUS: Hey, Johnnie Cope, are ye waking yet? Or are ye sleeping, I would wit? O haste ye, get up, for the drums do beat: O fye, Cope, rise in the morning! He wrote a challenge from Dunbar, "Come fight me, Charlie, an ye daur; If it be not by the chance of war, I'll give you a merry morning. When Charlie look'd the letter upon, He drew his sword the scabbard from, "So heaven restore to me my own, I'll meet you, Cope, in the morning." Cope swore with many a bloody word, That he would fight them gun and sword, But he fled frae his nest like a weel-scar'd bird, And Johnnie he took wing in the morning. It was upon an afternoon, Sir John march'd in to Preston town, He says, "My lads, come lean you down, And we'll fight the boys in the morning." But when he saw the Highland lads Wi' tartan trews and white cockades, Wi' swords and guns, and rungs and gauds, O Johnnie he took wing in the morning. On the morrow when he did rise, He look'd between him and the skies; He saw them wi' their naked thighs, Which fear'd him in the morning. O then he fled to Dunbar, Crying for a man of war; He thought to have pass'd for a rustic tar, And gotten awa in the morning. Sir John then into Berwick rade, Just as the deil had been his guide; Gi'en him the world, he wadna staid T' have foughten the boys in the morning. Said the Berwickers unto Sir John, "Oh what's become of all your men?" "In faith," says he, "I dinna ken; I left them a' this morning." Says Lord Mark Car, "Ye are na blate, To bring us the news o' your ain defeat, I think you deserve the back o' the gate: Get out o' my sight this morning."
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