Short syne we were wonderfu' canty,
Our friends and our country to see
But since the proud Consul's grown vauntie,
We'll meet him by land or by sea.
Wherever a clan is disloyal,
Wherever our king has a foe,
He'll quickly see Donald Macdonald,
Wi' his Highlanders a' in a row.
Guns, and pistols, and a',
Pistols, and guns, and a';
He'll quickly see Donald Macdonald,
Wi' guns, and pistols, and a'.
What though we befreendit young Charlie?
To tell it I dinna think shame;
Puir lad! he cam' to us but barely,
And reckon'd our mountains his hame.
It's true that our reason forbade us,
But tenderness carried the day;
Had Geordie come friendless amang us,
Wi' him we had a' gane away.
Sword, and buckler, and a',
Buckler, and sword, and a';
For George we'll encounter the devil,
Wi' sword, and buckler, and a'.
And O I wad eagerly press him
The keys o' the East to retain;
For should he gi'e up the possession,
We'll soon ha'e to force them again:
Than yield up an inch wi' dishonour,
Though it were my finishln' blow,
He aye may depend on Macdonald,
Wi' his Highlandmen all in a row.
Knees, and elbows, and a',
Elbows, and knees, and a';
Depend upon Donald Macdonald,
His knees, and elbows, and a'.
If Bonaparte land at Fort-William,
Auld Europe nae langer shall grane;
I laugh when I think how we'll gall him
Wi' bullet, wi' steel, and wi' stane:
Wi' rocks o' the Nevis and Garny
We'll rattle him aff frae our shore,
Or lull him asleep in a cairnie,
And sing him Lochaber no more!
Stanes, and bullets, and a'.
Bullets, and stanes, and a';
We'll finish the Corsican callau
Wi' stanes, and bullets, and a'.
The Gordon is gude in a hurry;
And Campbell is steel to the bane,
And Grant, and Mackenzie, and Murray,
And Cameron, will hurkle to nane;
The Stuart is sturdy and wannel;
And sae is Macleod and Mackay;
And I, their gude-brither, Macdonald,
Sall never be last in the fray.
Brogues, and brochan, and a',
Brochan, and brogues, and a';
And up wi' the bonnie blue bonnet,
The kilt, and feather, and a'.
Dundee.
[Written by Thomas Smibert to the old set of the air of "Dundee," as found in the Skene MS.]
Fare thee weel, thou bonnie river,
Rowin' by my ain Dundee;
Aft in days gane by for ever,
Thou hast borne my love and me.
Thou hast heard, in days departed,
Vows that nane could hear but thee;
Now thou seest me broken-hearted—
Tay, adieu! adieu, Dundee!
On thy waves a light is fa'in',
Ruddy as the rose in June;
Some may trow it is the dawin'
Glinting frae the lift abune:
But I ken thou'rt only blushing
That a maid so false could be!
Like thy springs my tears are gushing—
Tay, adieu! adieu, Dundee!
The bonnie Redesdale Lassie.
[Robert White of Newcastle.—Here printed for the first time.]
The breath o' spring is gratefu',
As mild it sweeps alang,
Awaukening bud an' blossom
The broomy braes amang;
And wafting notes o' gladness
Fra ilka bower and tree;
Yet the bonnie Redesdale lassie
Is sweeter still to me!
