6
My Doctors look that you agree,
Cure a' the town without a fae;
My lawyers, dinna pick a plea—
Carle, now the King's come.
Come forth each sturdy Burgher's bairn,
That dints on wood or clarks on airn,
That fires the o'en, or winds the pirn—
Carle, now the King's come.
Come forward with the Blanket blue,
Your sires were loyal men and true,
As Scotland's foeman oft might rue—
Carle, now the King's come.
Scots downs loup, and rin a rave,
We're steady folks, and something grave,
We'll keep the causeway firm and brave—
Carle, now the King's come.
Sir Thomas thunder from your rock,
Till Pentland dinles wi' the shock.
I'll hae a braw new snood o' smoke—
Carle, now the King's come.
Melvile, bring out your bands of blue,
A' Londen lads, baith stout and true,
With Elcho, Hope' and Cockburn too—
Carle, now the King's come.
