'The Curse of the Gunns', a poem by Thomas Gunn (1873-1950)
I believe the following poem is by Tom Gunn 1873-1950, who lived in the Maranoa District of Queensland, Australia. It provides a delightful, 'colonial' view of Gunn history (including the 'Keith / Caithness' battle), and religion...
THE CURSE OF THE GUNNS
My son the grand-son of a son of a Gunn,
This message I give you ere my sands are run,
I bid you beware of the Church and its prayer,
To a son of a Gunn it was ever a snare.
In the years long past all the Gunns and their Chief,
All prayed in the Churches with a firm belief.
These simple old Norse-men, lived on Ness of Caith,
Lived up to their motto of prayer and of faith
The Keiths also lived there, about these same parts,
Blue Celts in the eyes, but blackguards in their hearts,
Their motto was watch to watch and to prey,
The last word spelt always with 'E' not with 'A'.
The Keiths and the Gunns they fell out on some rights,
Of poaching the salmon on fine frosty nights,
As neither had money the lawyers could steal,
The trial was by battle and with the cold steel.
George Gunn and eleven of very next best,
Would meet twelve of Keiths in a great battle test.
The Keiths were too cunning for the simple Norse
And said we will meet you, if you make it 'horse'.
The Gunns said it's righto', just name the glad day,
We'll meet and we'll fight you on horse as you say.
The date was named, near a church was the spot,
The Church of "St. Tears", its stones still there rot.
The Gunns rode to battle, the Keiths rode their too,
But on each of their horses the Keiths mounted two.
The poor silly Gunns just one man on each horse
Arrived at the church door 'longside of the course,
"Our motto", their Chief said, "is prayer and is faith,
Come into the church door and practice them baith."
In there the Gunn Chieftain and pick of his men
All said their last prayers to a bloody Amen.
The Keiths had been watching behind the big rocks
And stole in upon them, without shoes or socks.
Surprised and out-numbered, by two unto one,
Swift death at God's altar came to pious Gunn
With Chief cut in pieces and best men all slain,
The Gunn Clan was outed and n'ver won again.
While Highlands of Scotland continued to clan,
The Gunns they were ever in the also ran.
Now changed is their motto, from faith and from prayer,
Unto "help yourself if you want to get there".
My father has handed me down this dour tale,
Hand it on to your children without any fail,
All the curse of the Gunn Clan from ancestral glen
With rush in upon you if you bend again.
Thomas 'Tom' Gunn
His life, and family, can be found through searching at at http://trove.nla.gov.au/
His poetry has basically disappeared, although the importance of his nursery rhymes are briefly explored in Twinkle, Twinkle, Southern Cross: The Forgotten Folklore of Australian Nursery Rhymes by Robert Holden, pages 27-28, which can be found at http://books.google.co.uk/books?id=F8uBYs1akhIC&pg=PT37&lpg=PT37&dq=gunn+maranoa+poetry&source=bl&ots=F0ODiPK5nf&sig=vSnVKaYL19g4E74dxDIUKjLfOzc&hl=en&sa=X&ei=m_5uULy7F-T80QXQmIDQDg&ved=0CC4Q6AEwAA
THE CURSE OF THE GUNNS
My son the grand-son of a son of a Gunn,
This message I give you ere my sands are run,
I bid you beware of the Church and its prayer,
To a son of a Gunn it was ever a snare.
In the years long past all the Gunns and their Chief,
All prayed in the Churches with a firm belief.
These simple old Norse-men, lived on Ness of Caith,
Lived up to their motto of prayer and of faith
The Keiths also lived there, about these same parts,
Blue Celts in the eyes, but blackguards in their hearts,
Their motto was watch to watch and to prey,
The last word spelt always with 'E' not with 'A'.
The Keiths and the Gunns they fell out on some rights,
Of poaching the salmon on fine frosty nights,
As neither had money the lawyers could steal,
The trial was by battle and with the cold steel.
George Gunn and eleven of very next best,
Would meet twelve of Keiths in a great battle test.
The Keiths were too cunning for the simple Norse
And said we will meet you, if you make it 'horse'.
The Gunns said it's righto', just name the glad day,
We'll meet and we'll fight you on horse as you say.
The date was named, near a church was the spot,
The Church of "St. Tears", its stones still there rot.
The Gunns rode to battle, the Keiths rode their too,
But on each of their horses the Keiths mounted two.
The poor silly Gunns just one man on each horse
Arrived at the church door 'longside of the course,
"Our motto", their Chief said, "is prayer and is faith,
Come into the church door and practice them baith."
In there the Gunn Chieftain and pick of his men
All said their last prayers to a bloody Amen.
The Keiths had been watching behind the big rocks
And stole in upon them, without shoes or socks.
Surprised and out-numbered, by two unto one,
Swift death at God's altar came to pious Gunn
With Chief cut in pieces and best men all slain,
The Gunn Clan was outed and n'ver won again.
While Highlands of Scotland continued to clan,
The Gunns they were ever in the also ran.
Now changed is their motto, from faith and from prayer,
Unto "help yourself if you want to get there".
My father has handed me down this dour tale,
Hand it on to your children without any fail,
All the curse of the Gunn Clan from ancestral glen
With rush in upon you if you bend again.
Thomas 'Tom' Gunn
His life, and family, can be found through searching at at http://trove.nla.gov.au/
His poetry has basically disappeared, although the importance of his nursery rhymes are briefly explored in Twinkle, Twinkle, Southern Cross: The Forgotten Folklore of Australian Nursery Rhymes by Robert Holden, pages 27-28, which can be found at http://books.google.co.uk/books?id=F8uBYs1akhIC&pg=PT37&lpg=PT37&dq=gunn+maranoa+poetry&source=bl&ots=F0ODiPK5nf&sig=vSnVKaYL19g4E74dxDIUKjLfOzc&hl=en&sa=X&ei=m_5uULy7F-T80QXQmIDQDg&ved=0CC4Q6AEwAA