CXLIX WELCOME, ROYAL CHARLIE! _Oh! he was lang o’ comin’, Lang, lang, lang o’ comin’, Oh! he was lang o’ comin! Welcome, Royal Charlie!_ When he on Moidart’s shore did stand, The friends he had within the land Came down and shook him by the hand, And welcomed Royal Charlie. The dress that our Prince Charlie had, Was bonnet blue, and tartan plaid; And O! he was a handsome lad, A true king’s son was Charlie. _But oh! he was lang o’ comin’, Lang, lang, lang o’ comin’, Oh! he was lang o’ comin’, Welcome, Royal Charlie!_ _Anonymous._ CL CAM’ YE BY ATHOL? Cam’ ye by Athol, lad wi’ the philabeg, Down by the Tummel, or banks of the Garry? Saw ye the lads wi’ their bonnets an’ white cockades, Leaving their mountains to follow Prince Charlie? _Follow thee, follow thee, wha wadna follow thee? Lang hast thou lo’ed an’ trusted us fairly! Charlie, Charlie, wha wadna follow thee? King o’ the Highland hearts, bonnie Prince Charlie!_ I hae but ae son, my gallant young Donald; But if I had ten they should follow Glengarry; Health to Macdonald an’ gallant Clanronald, These are the men that will die for their Charlie! I’ll to Lochiel an’ Appin, an’ kneel to them; Down by Lord Murray an’ Roy o’ Kildarlie; Brave Macintosh, he shall fly to the fiel’ wi’ them; These are the lads I can trust wi’ my Charlie. Down thro’ the Lowlands, down wi’ the Whigamore, Loyal true Highlanders, down wi’ them rarely; Ronald an’ Donald drive on wi’ the braid claymore, Over the necks o’ the foes o’ Prince Charlie! _Follow thee, follow thee, wha wadna follow thee? Lang hast thou lo’ed an’ trusted us fairly! Charlie, Charlie, wha wadna follow thee? King o’ the Highland hearts, bonnie Prince Charlie!_ _Anonymous._ CLI LADY KEITH’S LAMENT I may sit in my wee croo house, At the rock and the reel to toil fu’ dreary; I may think on the day that’s gane, And sigh and sab till I grow weary. I ne’er could brook, I ne’er could brook, A foreign loon to own or flatter; But I will sing a rantin’ sang, That day our king comes owre the water. O gin I live to see the day, That I hae begg’d, and begg’d frae Heaven, I’ll fling my rock and reel away, And dance and sing frae morn till even: For there is are I winna name, That comes the reigning bike to scatter; And I’ll put on my bridal gown, That day our king comes owre the water. I hae seen the gude auld day, The day o’ pride and chieftain glory, When royal Stuarts bare the sway, And ne’er heard tell o’ Whig nor Tory. Tho’ lyart be my locks and grey, And eild has crooked me down--what matter? I’ll dance and sing anither day, That day our king comes owre the water.