4
Come, Tweeddale, true as sword to sheath;
Come, Hopetoun, fear'd on fields of death;
Come, Clerk, and give your bugle breath;
Carle, now the King's come.
Come, Wemyss, who modest merit aids;
Come, Roseberry, from Dalmeny shades;
Breadalbane, bring your belted plaids;
Carle, now the King's come.
Come, stately Niddrie, auld and true,
Girt with the sword that Minden knew;
We have new few such lairds as you—
Carle, now the King's come.
King Arthur's grown a common crier,
He s heard in Fife and far Cantire,—
Fie, lads, behold my creet on fire,
Carle, now the King's come.
Saint Abb roars out I see him pass
Between Tantallon and the Bass—
Calton, get out your kneeking-glass,
Carle, now the King's come.
The Carline stopp'd; and, sure I am,
For very glee had ta'en a dwam,
But Oman help'd ber to a dram—
Cogie, now the King's come.
