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Poetry
Wha'll be King but Charlie?
Lady Nairn


The news fraw Moidart cam' yestreen
Will soon gar mony ferlie;
For ships o' war hae just come in,
And landit Royal Charlie?

Come thro' the heather, around him gather,
Ye're a' the welcomer early;
Around him cling wi' a' your kin;
For wha'll be king but Charlie?

Come thro' the heather, around him gather,
Come Ronald, come Donald, come a' thegither,
And crown your rightfu' lawfu' king!
For wha'll be king but Charlie.

The Hieland clans, wi sword in hand,
Frae John o' Groats' to Airlie,
Hae to a man declared to stand
Or fa' wi' Royal Charlie.

Come thro' the heather, etc.

The Lowlands a', baith great an' sma,
Wi' mony a lord and laird, hae
Declar'd for Scotia's king an' law,
An' speir ye wha but Charlie.

Come thro' the heather, etc.

There's ne'er a lass in a' the lan',
But vows baith late an' early,
She'll ne'er to man gie heart nor han'
Wha wadna fecht for Charlie.

Come thro' the heather, etc.

Then here's a health to Charlie's cause,
And be't complete an' early;
His very name out heart's blood warms;
To arms for Royal Charlie!

Come thro' the heather, around him gather,
Ye're a' the welcomer early;
Around him cling wi' a' your kin;
For what'll be king but Charlie?
Come thro' the heather, around him gather,
Come Ronald, come Donald, come a' thegither,
And crown your richtfu' lawfu' king!
For wha'll be king but Charlie?


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