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(by Robert Burns; music anonymous)

(music to go here)

A wee bird cam' tae our ha' door,
He warbled sweet and clarely,
And aye the o'ercomin' o' his song,
Was, Wae be tae prince Charlie!
    Oh, when I heard the bonny, bonny bird
    The tears cam' droppin' rarely,
    I took my bonnet off my head,
    For weel I lo'ed prince Charlie.

Quoth I, My bird, my bonny, bonny bird,
Is that a song ye borrow?
Are these some words ye've learnt by heart,
Or a lilt o' dule and sorrow?
    Oh, no, oh, no, the wee bird sang,
    I've flown sin' mornin' early,
    Thro' sic' a night o' wind and rain,
    Ah, wae's be tae prince Charlie!

On hills that are by right his ain
He roves a lonely stranger,
On ev'ry hand he's pressed by want,
On ev'ry side is danger.
    Yestre'en I met him in the glen,
    My heart maist burstit fairly,
    For sadly changed indeed was he,
    Oh, wae's be tae prince Charlie!

Dark night cam' on, the tempest roar'd
Loud o'er the hills and valleys,
And where was't that he laid his head,
Who's hame should ha' been a palace?
    He's rolled him in his hieland plaid,
    Which covered him but sparely,
    An' slept beneath a birk o' broom,
    Ah, wae's be tae prince Charlie!

But noo the bird saw some redcoats,
An' he shook his wings wi' anger,
Oh, this is nae a hame for me,
I'll tarry here nae langer.
    He hovered on the wing a while,
    Ere he departed fairly,
    But weel I mind his partin' words,
    Ah, wae's be tae prince Charlie!

(from miriam berg's folksong collection)