Oh no, no, no,’ the wee bird sang,
‘I’ve flown sin’ morning early;
But sic a day o’ wind and rain— 15
Oh wae’s me for Prince Charlie!
O’er hills that are by right his ain
He roams a lonely stranger;
On ilka hand he’s pressed by want,
On ilka side by danger. 20
Yestreen I met him in the glen,
My heart near bursted fairly: