Part 119

“Now wae to thee, thou cruel lord, A bluidy man I trow thou be; For mony a heart thou has made sair, That ne’er did wrang to thine or thee!”

Charlie, He’s My Darling

’Twas on a Monday morning, Right early in the year, That Charlie came to our town, The young Chevalier.

Chorus—An’ Charlie, he’s my darling, My darling, my darling, Charlie, he’s my darling, The young Chevalier.

As he was walking up the street, The city for to view, O there he spied a bonie lass The window looking through, An’ Charlie, &c.

Sae light’s he jumped up the stair, And tirl’d at the pin; And wha sae ready as hersel’ To let the laddie in. An’ Charlie, &c.

He set his Jenny on his knee, All in his Highland dress; For brawly weel he ken’d the way To please a bonie lass. An’ Charlie, &c.

It’s up yon heathery mountain, An’ down yon scroggie glen, We daur na gang a milking, For Charlie and his men, An’ Charlie, &c.

Bannocks O’ Bear Meal

Chorus—Bannocks o’ bear meal, Bannocks o’ barley, Here’s to the Highlandman’s Bannocks o’ barley!

Wha, in a brulyie, will First cry a parley? Never the lads wi’ the Bannocks o’ barley, Bannocks o’ bear meal, &c.

Wha, in his wae days, Were loyal to Charlie? Wha but the lads wi’ the Bannocks o’ barley! Bannocks o’ bear meal, &c.

The Highland Balou

Hee balou, my sweet wee Donald, Picture o’ the great Clanronald; Brawlie kens our wanton Chief Wha gat my young Highland thief.

Leeze me on thy bonie craigie, An’ thou live, thou’ll steal a naigie, Travel the country thro’ and thro’, And bring hame a Carlisle cow.

Thro’ the Lawlands, o’er the Border, Weel, my babie, may thou furder! Herry the louns o’ the laigh Countrie, Syne to the Highlands hame to me.

The Highland Widow’s Lament

Oh I am come to the low Countrie, Ochon, Ochon, Ochrie! Without a penny in my purse, To buy a meal to me.

It was na sae in the Highland hills, Ochon, Ochon, Ochrie! Nae woman in the Country wide, Sae happy was as me.

For then I had a score o’kye, Ochon, Ochon, Ochrie! Feeding on you hill sae high, And giving milk to me.

And there I had three score o’yowes, Ochon, Ochon, Ochrie! Skipping on yon bonie knowes, And casting woo’ to me.

I was the happiest of a’ the Clan, Sair, sair, may I repine; For Donald was the brawest man, And Donald he was mine.

Till Charlie Stewart cam at last, Sae far to set us free; My Donald’s arm was wanted then, For Scotland and for me.

Their waefu’ fate what need I tell, Right to the wrang did yield; My Donald and his Country fell, Upon Culloden field.

Oh I am come to the low Countrie, Ochon, Ochon, Ochrie! Nae woman in the warld wide, Sae wretched now as me.

It Was A’ For Our Rightfu’ King

It was a’ for our rightfu’ King We left fair Scotland’s strand; It was a’ for our rightfu’ King We e’er saw Irish land, my dear, We e’er saw Irish land.

Now a’ is done that men can do, And a’ is done in vain; My Love and Native Land fareweel, For I maun cross the main, my dear, For I maun cross the main.