TUNE--_'Johnnie Faa.'_
A wee bird cam to our ha' door,
He warbled sweet an' clearly,
An' aye the owercome o' his sang
Was, 'Waes me for Prince Charlie.'
Oh! whan I heard the bonnie soun',
The tears cam drappin' rarely;
I took my bannet aff my head,
For weel I lo'ed Prince Charlie.

Quoth I, 'My bird, my bonnie, bonnie bird,
Is that a sang ye borrow?
Are thae some words ye 've learnt by heart,
Or a lilt o' dule an' sorrow?'
'Oh, no, no, no!' the wee bird sang,
'I 've flown sin' mornin' early,
But sic' a day o' wind and rain!--
Oh! waes me for Prince Charlie.

'On hills that are by right his ain,
He roves a lanely stranger;
On every side he 's press'd by want,
On every side is danger.
Yestreen I saw him in a glen,
My heart maist burstit fairly,
For sadly changed indeed was he--
Oh! waes me for Prince Charlie.

'Dark night cam on, the tempest roar'd
Loud o'er the hills an' valleys;
An' whare wast that your Prince lay down,
Whase hame should been a palace?
He row'd him in a Highland plaid,
Which cover'd him but sparely,
An' slept beneath a bush o' broom--
Oh! waes me for Prince Charlie.'

But now the bird saw some red-coats,
An' he shook his wings wi' anger:
'Oh! this is no a land for me,
I 'll tarry here nae langer.'
He hover'd on the wing a while,
Ere he departed fairly;
But weel I mind the farewell strain
Was, 'Waes me for Prince Charlie.'