But now the bird saw some red coats,

And he shook his wings wi’ anger:

‘Oh, this is no a land for me— 35

I’ll tarry here nae langer.’

A while he hovered on the wing,

Ere he departed fairly;

But weel I mind the farewell strain—

’Twas ‘Wae’s me for Prince Charlie!’ 40

William Glen.

CXLIV
AN ODE.