Wae’s Me for Prince Charlie.
Words by William Glen.
Arranged by John S. Macgregor.
A wee bird came to our ha’ door,
He warbled sweet and clearly;
And aye the o’ercome o’ his sang,
Was ‘wae’s me for Prince Charlie.’
O when I heard the bonny, bonny bird,
The tears came drapping rarely,
I took my bonnet aff my head,
For weel I lo’ed Prince Charlie.
Quoth I, my bird, my bonny bird,
Is that a tale ye borrow?
Or is’t some words ye’ve learnt by rote,
Or a lilt o’ dool and sorrow?’
‘Oh1 no, no, no,’ the wee bird sang,
I’ve flown sin morning early;
But sic a day o’ wind and rain!
Oh! wae’s me for Prince Charlie.
On hills that are by right 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 the glen,
My heart near bursted fairly;
For sadly changed indeed was he.
Oh! wae’s me for Prince Charlie!
Dark night came on, the tempest howl’d,
Out owre the hills and valleys;
And whaur was’t that your Prince lay down.
Whause hame should be a palace?
He row’d him in a highland plaid,
Which cover’d him but sparely,
And slept beneath a bush o’ broom.
Oh! wae’s me for Prince Charlie.’
But now the bird saw some red coats,
And he shook his wings wi’ anger;
‘O this is no a land for me,
I’ll tarry here nae langer.’
A while he hover’d on the wing,
Ere he departed fairly;
But weel I mind the fareweel strain,
‘Twas ‘wae’s me for Prince Charlie!’