CLVI
CHARLIE IS MY DARLING Oh! Charlie is my darling, my darling, my darling,
Oh! Charlie is my darling, the young Chevalier!
As he cam’ marchin’ up the street,
The pipes played loud and clear,
An’ a’ the folk cam’ rinnin’ oot
To meet the Chevalier.
Wi’ Hieland bonnets on their heads,
An’ claymores bricht an’ clear,
They cam’ to fecht for Scotland’s richt,
An’ the young Chevalier.
They’ve left their bonnie Hieland hills,
Their wives and bairnies dear,
To draw the sword for Scotland’s lord,
The young Chevalier.
Oh! Charlie is my darling, my darling, my darling,
Oh! Charlie is my darling, the young Chevalier!
Lady Nairn.
CLVII
WHA’LL BE KING BUT CHARLIE? The news frae Moidart cam’ yestreen
Will soon gar mony ferlie;
For ships o’ war hae just come in,
And landed Royal Charlie.
Come through the heather, around him gather,
Ye’re a’ the welcomer early;
Around him cling wi’ a’ your kin;
For wha’ll be King but Charlie?
The Hieland clans wi’ sword in hand,
Frae John o’ Groats to Airlie,
Hae to a man declared to stand
Or fa’ wi’ Royal Charlie.
There’s ne’er a lass in a’ the land,
But vows both late an’ early,
To man she’ll ne’er gie heart or han’,
Wha wadna fecht for Charlie.
Then here’s a health to Charlie’s cause,
An’ be’t complete an’ early;
His very name our hearts’ blood warms—
To arms for Royal Charlie!
Come through the heather, around him gather,
Come Ronald, come Donald, come a’ thegither,
And claim your rightfu’, lawfu’ King,
For wha’ll be King but Charlie?
Lady Nairn.
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