O’er the Water to Charlie.
[This popular Jacobite song has been subjected to various alterations by different hands, so that few copies read alike. We give here Hogg's version, in his "Relics." The tune, "O'er the water to Charlie," is older than the '45, and it is probable that there was some old song with that burthen before the Jacobitical effusion.]
Come, boat me ower, come, row me ower,
Come, boat me ower to Charlie;
I'll gi'e John Ross another bawbee,
To ferry me ower to Charlie.
We'll over the water, and over the sea,
We'll over the water to Charlie;
Come weel, come woe, we'll gather and go,
And live and die wi' Charlie.
It's weel I lo'e my Charlie's name,
Though some there be that abhor him;
But O, to see Auld Nick gaun hame,
And Charlie's faes before him!
I swear by moon and stars sae bricht,
And the sun that glances early,
If I had twenty thousand lives,
I'd gi'e them a' for Charlie.
I ance had sons, I now ha'e nane;
I bred them, toiling sairly;
And I wad bear them a' again,
And lose them a' for Charlie!
Royal Charlie.
[Modern Jacobite song.]
The news frae Moidart cam' yestreen,
Will soon gar mony ferlie,
For ships o' war have just come in,
An' landed Royal Charlie!
Come through 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 through the heather, around him gather,
Come Ronald, come Donald, come a' thegither,
And crown him rightfu', lawful king,
For wha'll be king but Charlie?
The Highland clans wi' sword in hand,
Frae John o' Groats to Airly,
Ha'e to a man declared to stand
Or fa' wi' royal Charlie.
Come through, &c.
The Lowlands a', baith great an' sma',
Wi' mony a lord an' laird, ha'e
Declared for Scotia's king an' law,
An' spier ye wha but Charlie?
Come through, &c.
There's ne'er a lass in a' the land,
But vows baith late an' early,
To man she'll ne'er gi'e heart or hand,
Wha wadna fecht for Charlie.
Come through, &c.
Then here's a health to Charlie's cause,
An' be't complete and early,
His very name my heart's blood warms,—
To arms for royal Charlie!
Come through, &c.
Native Land.
[Written by D. Perry. Music by Sir Henry R. Bishop.]
Native land! I'll love thee ever—
Let me raise the welcome strain—
Mine were banished feet that never
Hoped to press thy turf again.
Now these eyes, illumed with gladness,
As they scanned thy beauties o'er,
Ne'er again shall melt in sadness,
Parting to return no more.
Caledonia! native land!
Native land! I'll love thee ever.
Native land! though fate may banish,
And command me far to part,
Never can thy memory vanish
From this glowing, grateful heart!
Let an Indian solstice burn me,
Or the snows of Norway chill,
Hither still, my heart I turn thee—
Here, my country, thou art still.
Caledonia! native land!
Native land, I'll love thee ever.
