The Scottish songs - National Library of Scotland

558
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O but ye've been lang o' coming,
Lang o' coming, lang o' coming,
O but ye've been lang o' coming
Welcome, royal Cbarlie I
Arouse, ilk valiant kilted clan,
Let Highland hearts lead on the van,
And charge the foe, claymore in hand?
For sake o' royal Charlie.
O welcome, Charlie, ower the main
Our Highland hills are a' your ain
Thrice welcome to our isle again,
Our gallant royal Chaiiie !
Auld Scotia's sons, 'mang heather hills,
Can, fearless, face the warst of ills,
For kindred-fire ilk bosom fills,
At sight of royal Charlie.
Her ancient thistle wags her povv,
And proudly waves ower hill and knowe,
To hear our pledge and sacred vow,
To live or die wi' Charlie.
We daurna brew a peck o' maut,
But Geordie aye is finding faut;
We canna mak a pickle saut,
For want o' royal Charlie.
Then up and quaff, alang wi' me,
A bumper crowned wi' ten times three,
To him that's come to set us free
Huzza for royal Charlie I
From a* the wilds o' Caledon,^
We'll gather every hardy son.
Till thousands to his standard run,
And rally round Prince Charlie.
Come let the flowing quech go round,
And boldly bid the pibroch sound,
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