BONNIE PRINCE CHARLIE
(by Robert Burns; music anonymous)
A wee bird cam' tae our ha' door,
Quoth I, My bird, my bonny, bonny bird,
On hills that are by right his ain
Dark night cam' on, the tempest roar'd
But noo the bird saw some redcoats,
(from miriam berg's folksong collection)
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.
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!
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!
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!
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!