Thine still, dear youth, that heart shall be, Nor pant for aught save heaven and thee, THE AULD STUARTS BACK AGAIN. ANONYMOUS. 1745. THE auld Stuarts back again! We'll wauk their hides and fyle their fuds,, There's Ayr and Irvine, wi' the rest, And they'll set up their crack again ! Give ear unto this loyal sang, A' ye that ken the richt frae wrang, An' a' that look and think it lang, For auld Stuarts back again : There might ye see the noble Mar, And mony mae, what reck, again. THE DUKE OF CUMBERLAND. From "The Wanderings of Prince Charles and Flora Macdonald," THAT mushrom thing call'd Cumberland Since he gaed to the north, sir; Sing audlie ilti, audlie ilti, audlie ilti, lara, lara ; Call'd Protestant, I swear, sir, Sing audlie ilti, &c. Our priests he has incarcerate, And bless the firebrand loon, sir. Sing audlie ilti, &c. But when our tartan lads come back, And drive them to Hanover. Then all the brood o'erwhelm'd with dool, Sing audlie ilti, &c. Sing audlie ilti, &c. OH, HE'S BEEN LANG O' COMING! From PETER BUCHAN'S "Prince Charles and Flora Macdonald." THE youth that should hae been our king A braver lad ye wadna seen Nor our brave royal Charlie. Oh, he's been lang o' coming, At Falkirk and at Prestonpans, Oh, he's been lang, &c. The valiant chief, the brave Lochiel, Oh, he's been lang, &c. Oh, come and quaff along wi' me, Oh, he's been lang, &c. We daurna brew a peck o' maut, For want o' royal Charlie. Oh, he's been lang, &c. Now our good king abroad is gone, They're brutes compared to Charlie. Oh, he's been lang, &c. Now our good king is turn'd awa', And though we're forced against our law, Oh, he's been lang, &c. If we had but our Charlie back, Oh, he's been lang, &c. O Charlie, come and lead our way, The right belongs to Charlie. Oh, he's been lang, &c. FLORA AND CHARLIE. From PETER BUCHAN'S "Prince Charles and Flora Macdonald." OWER yon muir and yon lofty mountains, Fair Flora's love it was surprising, Crying, Charlie, royal Charlie, When shalt thou enjoy thy own? When all these storms are quite blown o'er, The frisking lambs will skip over, And larks and linnets shall sweetly sing, Singing, Charlie, royal Charlie, You're welcome home to be our king. FOR A' THAT AND A' THAT. From "Prince Charles and Flora Macdonald," by PETER BUCHAN. THOUGH Geordie reigns in James's stead, I'm grieved, yet scorn to show that; But still I'll trust in Providence, And still I'll laugh at a' that; And sing, He's ower the hills this night He's far ayont Killebrae this night He wears a pistol on his side, Which makes me blythe for a' that. The Highland coat, the philabeg, He wears a broadsword on his side, The Whigs think a' that Willie's mine, They think our hearts will be cast down, But we'll be blythe for a' that: For a' that and a' that, And thrice as meikle's a' that; He's bonny that's o'er the hills this night, But, oh, what will the Whigs say syne, |