They'll raise the reel and rant no more,
Nor play the springs they played of yore,
When lads and lasses tripped the floor
From gloamin' until early;
No more a bridal lilt they'll blow,
Or wailing coranach, although
Deaths hand should lay a kinsman low,
The pipes that played for Charlie.
Glenfinnan heard their joyful note,
And distant straths and hills remote,
When in the Northern air afloat
The Royal flag waved fairly;
They blew a welcome to Lochiel,
And many a chieftains heart of steel
Beat high to hear the warlike peal
Of pipes that played for Charlie.
Oh! lightly marched the Highland host,
And o'er the Fords o' Frew they crost,
And lightly faced the sleet and frost,
Though tartans clad them barely.
Before them Cope was fain to flee,
They took St. Johnstone and Dundee,
The bailies heard with little glee
The pipes that played for Charlie.
They sang fu' low at Holyrood
To suit the gentle ladies mood,
The ladies fair, of gentle blood,
Whose smiles the prince lo'ed rarely;
But when at Prestonpans they played,
The Lowland lads were sore dismayed,
Their horsemen ran, and ne'er drew blade,
From pipes that played for Charlie.
They blew a last, a mournful strain,
When on Drumanossie s weary plain
The day was lost and hope had gane,
And hearts were sinkin' sairly.
No more they'll swell the pibroch shrill,
Or in the glen, or on the hill
Forever now the voice is still
Of pipes that played for Charlie. |
