dots-menu
×
Home  »  library  »  Song  »  William Nicholson

C.D. Warner, et al., comp.
The Library of the World’s Best Literature. An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.

William Nicholson

The Heath-Cock

THE HEATH-COCK crawed o’er muir an’ dale;

Red rase the sun o’er distant vale;

Our Northern clans, wi’ distant yell,

Around their chiefs were gathering.

“O Duncan, are ye ready yet,

M’Donald, are ye ready yet,

O Frazer, are ye ready yet,

To join the clans in the morning?”

Nae mair we’ll chase the fleet, fleet roe

O’er dowie glen or mountain brow,

But rush like tempest on the foe,

Wi’ sword an’ targe this morning.

“O Duncan,” etc.

The Prince has come to claim his ain,

A stem o’ Stuart’s glorious name;

What Highlander his sword wad hain

For Charlie’s cause this morning?

“O Duncan,” etc.

On yonder hills our clans appear,

The sun back frae their spears shines clear;

The Southron trumps fall on my ear;—

’Twill be an awfu’ morning.

“O Duncan,” etc.

The contest lasted sair an’ lang;

The pipers blew, the echoes rang;

The cannon roared the clans amang,

Culloden’s awfu’ morning.

Duncan now nae mair seems keen;

He’s lost his dirk an’ tartan sheen;

His bannet’s stained that ance was clean;—

Foul fa’ that awfu’ morning.

But Scotland lang shall rue the day

She saw her flag sae fiercely flee;

Culloden hills were hills o’ wae,—

It was an awfu’ morning.

Duncan now, etc.

Fair Flora’s gane her love to seek;

The midnight dew fa’s on her cheek;—

What Scottish heart that will not weep

For Charlie’s fate that morning?

Duncan now nae mair seems keen;

He’s lost his dirk an’ tartan sheen;

His bannet’s stained that ance was clean;—

Foul fa’ that awfu’ morning.