8
On every side he’s prest by want,
On every side is danger.
"Yestreen I met him in the glen,
My heart maist burstit fairly;
For sadly changed indeed was he—
Oh : waes me for prince Charly.
Dark night cam on the tempest roared
Loud our the hills and valleys;
An' whare was't that your prince lay down,
Whase hame should been a palace?
"He rowd him in his Highland plaid,
Which covered him but sparely,
An' slept beneath a bush o' broom—
Oh, waes me for prince Charly.
But now the bird saw some red coat,
An' he shook his wings wi' anger—
"Oh this is no a land for me,
I'll tarry here nae langer."
He hover’d on the wing a while,
Ere he departed fairly;
But weel I mind the fareweel strain
Was, "Waes me for prince Charly"
FINIS
