Four Favourite Songs (2)/Culloden

CULLODEN.

The heath-cock crawed o’er muir and dale
 Red raise the sun the sky was cloudy,
While mustering far wi distant yell
 The northern bands marched stern an steady.

Chorus.—O! Duncan, Donald’s ready,
 O! Duncan, Donald’s ready!
 Wi sword and targe he seeks the charge
 And frae his shouther flings the plaidie

Nae mair we chase the fleet-foot roe,
 O’er down o‘er dale and mountain flyin
But rush like tempests on the foe,
 Thro’ mingled groans the war-note cryin,
  O! Duncan, Donald’s ready, &c.

A prince is come to claim his ain,
 A stem o’ Stewart, frielness Charlie;
What Highlan’ haun its blade wad hain,
 What Higlan’ heart behint wad tarry?
  O! Duncan, Donald’s ready, &c.

I see our hardy clans appear,
 The sun back frae their blades is beaming,
The southern trump falls on my ear,
 Their bannered lions proudly streaming.
  Now, Donald, Duncan’s ready!
  Now Donald, Duncan’s ready!
  Within his hand he graspes the brand,
  Fierce is the fray the field is bloody!

But lang shall Scotlan’ rue the day
 She saw her flag sae fiercely flyin;
Culloden’s hills were hills o’ wae;
 Her honour lost, her warriors dyin.
  Duncan now nae mair is ready!
  Duncan now nae mair is ready!
  The brand is faun frae out his hand,
  His bonnet blue, lies stain’d and bloody

Fair Flora‘s gane her love to seek;
 Lang may she wait for his returnin;
The midnight dew fa’s on her cheek;
 What haun shall dry her tears o’ mournin
  Duncan now nae mair is ready, &c.