335. Wha’ll Be King But Charlie?

THE NEWS frae Moidart cam’ yestreen,

Will soon gar mony ferlie,

For ships o’ war hae just come in,

And landit Royal Charlie.

Come thro’ the heather, around him gather,

Ye’re a’ the welcomer early;

Around him cling wi’ a’ your kin;

For wha’ll be king but Charlie?

Come thro’ the heather, around him gather,

Come Ronald, come Donald, come a’ thegither

And crown your rightfu’, lawfu’ king!

For wha’ll be king but Charlie?

The Hieland clans, wi’ sword in hand,

Frae John o’ Groats to Airlie,

Hae to a man declared to stand

Or fa’ wi’ Royal Charlie.

The Lowlands a’, baith great an sma’,

Wi’ mony a lord and laird, hae

Declar’d for Scotia’s king an’ law,

An’ speir ye wha but Charlie.

There’s ne’er a lass in a’ the lan’,

But vows baith late and early,

She’ll ne’er to man gie heart or han’,

Wha wadna fecht for Charlie.

Then here’s a health to Charlie’s cause,

And be’t complete an’ early;

His very name our heart’s blood warms;

To arms for Royal Charlie!

Come thro’ the heather, around him gather,

Ye’re a’ the welcomer early;

Around him cling wi’ a’ your kin;

For wha’ll be king but Charlie?

Come thro’ the heather, around him gather,

Come Ronald, come Donald, come a’ thegither,

And crown your rightfu’, lawfu’ king!

For wha’ll be king but Charlie?