Poems, on sacred and other subjects and songs, humorous and sentimental: By the late William Watt. Third edition of the songs only--with additional songs |
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THE CHEVALIER'S WELCOME. |
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 | Poems, on sacred and other subjects |  |
97
THE CHEVALIER'S WELCOME.
Come ashore, Charlie Stuart, wi' your tartans on,
Come ashore, Charlie Stuart, wi' your tartans on,
The clan of brave Lochiel makes you welcome ev'ry one,
Since you've landed at Lochaber, wi' your tartans on.
Come ashore, Charlie Stuart, wi' your tartans on,
The clan of brave Lochiel makes you welcome ev'ry one,
Since you've landed at Lochaber, wi' your tartans on.
We looked for you lang, ere you came across the sea,
Till hope had fled ilk breast, and the tear fill'd every e'e;
But our fears are chased awa now, by joy before unknown,
Since ye've landed safe among us, wi' your tartans on.
Hark! the gatherin' is sounding—the clans quick advance,
Each mountain and glen gleams wi' gun, sword, and lance;
The Lochaber axe will clear you a passage to the throne,
And at Holyrood we'll crown ye, wi' your tartans on.
Till hope had fled ilk breast, and the tear fill'd every e'e;
But our fears are chased awa now, by joy before unknown,
Since ye've landed safe among us, wi' your tartans on.
Hark! the gatherin' is sounding—the clans quick advance,
Each mountain and glen gleams wi' gun, sword, and lance;
The Lochaber axe will clear you a passage to the throne,
And at Holyrood we'll crown ye, wi' your tartans on.
Our wild mountain-echoes, long silent and dumb,
Now resound, to the swell of the bagpipe and drum;
The targe and claymore, that in battle oft have shone,
Will assert our Prince's rights now, wi' his tartans on.
See the ranks from the hills, stream, attired in each dye
Of the rainbow, that gleams on the dark cloudy sky;
While the rocks resound the tread of the sons of Caledon,
Flocking to their Prince's standard, wi' their tartans on.
Now resound, to the swell of the bagpipe and drum;
The targe and claymore, that in battle oft have shone,
Will assert our Prince's rights now, wi' his tartans on.
See the ranks from the hills, stream, attired in each dye
Of the rainbow, that gleams on the dark cloudy sky;
While the rocks resound the tread of the sons of Caledon,
Flocking to their Prince's standard, wi' their tartans on.
The whigs ha'e vex'd us sarely, wi mony spitefu' jeers,
But times are alter'd fairly, sae they may ha'e their fears,
They will quickly change their tone, when they hear the bagpipe's drone,
And behold our daring warriors, wi' their tartans on.
Let us march, Charlie Stuart, wi' our tartans on,
There's no man without a true heart, that has tartans on;
Like the tempest of the North, we'll spread terror 'yond the Forth,
And the Saxon whigs will quake, to see our tartans on.
But times are alter'd fairly, sae they may ha'e their fears,
They will quickly change their tone, when they hear the bagpipe's drone,
And behold our daring warriors, wi' their tartans on.
Let us march, Charlie Stuart, wi' our tartans on,
There's no man without a true heart, that has tartans on;
Like the tempest of the North, we'll spread terror 'yond the Forth,
And the Saxon whigs will quake, to see our tartans on.
The Lowland chiefs await us, wi' anxious heart and e'e,
Brave Drummond and Kilmarnock, true Elcho and Dundee,
With daring Derwintwater, and fearless Elphistone,
Who will die before they flinch us, wi' our tartans on.
Like the wild mountain torrent, we'll quickly descend,
The rights and the laws of our Prince to defend;
The terror of our arms soon will shake the British throne,
And Whitehall will see us flauntin', wi' our tartans on.
Brave Drummond and Kilmarnock, true Elcho and Dundee,
With daring Derwintwater, and fearless Elphistone,
Who will die before they flinch us, wi' our tartans on.
Like the wild mountain torrent, we'll quickly descend,
The rights and the laws of our Prince to defend;
The terror of our arms soon will shake the British throne,
And Whitehall will see us flauntin', wi' our tartans on.
| Poems, on sacred and other subjects | |