Het was een lied tegen de katholieke opstandelingen die zich schaarden om troonpretendent Jacobus die ten laatste Schotland in een burgeroorlog stortte. Robert Burns bewerkte het lied in 1791 tot een iets ruimere aanklacht tegen de oorlog waarvoor hij de Jacobieten verantwoordelijk stelde. Inmiddels was het katholicisme definitief verslagen als politieke macht in Groot-Brittannië.
Ye Jacobites by name, give an ear, give an ear,
Ye Jacobites by name, give an ear,
Ye Jacobites by name,
Your fautes I will proclaim,
Your doctrines I maun blame, you shall hear.
What is Right, and What is Wrang, by the law, by the law?
What is Right and what is Wrang by the law?
What is Right, and what is Wrang?
A short sword, and a lang,
A weak arm and a strang, for to draw.
What makes heroic strife, famed afar, famed afar?
What makes heroic strife famed afar?
What makes heroic strife?
To whet th’ assassin’s knife,
Or hunt a Parent’s life, wi’ bluidy war?
Then let your schemes alone, in the state, in the state,
Then let your schemes alone in the state.
Then let your schemes alone,
Adore the rising sun,
And leave a man undone, to his fate.
Ian Bruce
Billy Bragg maakte op de traditionele wijze en met bovenstaande tekst in gedachten er dit lied van in 1996, de nadagen van John Major en zijn Thatcherites. Twintig jaar verder en Cameron hangt aan een zijden draadje – maar wie zal hem vervangen in zijn partij?
You Thatcherites by name, lend an ear, lend an ear
You Thatcherites by name lend an ear
You Thatcherites by name, your faults I will proclaim,
Your doctrines I must blame, you will hear, you will hear
Your doctrines I must blame, you will hear
You privatise away what is ours, what is ours
You privatise away what is ours
You privatise away and then you make us pay
We’ll take it back some day, mark my words, mark my words
We’ll take it back some day, mark my words
The scabs they hide their faces in shame, yes in shame
The scabs they hide their faces in shame
They hide away in shame but we recall their names
And they know they’ll share the blame for it all, for it all
They know they’ll share the blame for it all
Your leader she has gone to the Lords, to the Lords
Your leader, she has gone to the Lords
Your Leader she has gone, but she’s left us Little John
And he’s barely hanging on by his nails, by his nails
He’s barely hanging on by his nails
