The Pamphlet Collection of Sir Robert Stout: Volume 87
Wae's me for Prince Charlie
Wae's me for Prince Charlie.
Quoth I, "My bird, my bonnie bonnie bird,
Is that a tale ye borrow.
Or is't some words ye've learnt by rote,
Or a lilt
3 o' dool
4 an' sorrow?"
"Oh! no, no, no," the wee bird sang,
"I've flown sin' mornin' early,
But sic a day o' wind and rain—
O! waes me for Prince Charlie!
["On hills that are by richt his ain,
He roams a lonely stranger;
On ilka hand he's press'd by want, On ilka side by danger.
Yestreen I met him in a glen.
My heart maist burstit fairly;
For sairly changed indeed was he—
Oh! wae's me for Prince Charlie.]
["Dark night cam' on, the tempest roar'd
Cold o'er the hills and valleys;
An' whaur was't that your prince lay down,
Whase hame should been a palace?
He row'd him in a Highland plaid,
Which cover'd him but sparely,
An' slept beneath a bush o' broom—
Oh! wae's me for Prince Charlie."]
But now the bird saw some red coats,
An' he shook his wings wi' anger,
"O! this Is no a land for me,
I'll tarry here nae langer."
Awhile he hovered on the wing
Ere he departed fairly,
But weel I mind the fareweel strain
Was "Wae's me for Prince Charlie!"
3 Strain.
4 Grief.