Charlie 's comin' o'er the sea,
Soon, he 'll set the country free
From those that bear the rule and gree
In bonnie Caledonia!
Gentle breezes, softly blow,
We burn until we meet the foe,
And strike the bold decisive blow
For king and Caledonia!
Noble hearts are beating high,
All will fight, none basely fly,
For if they conquer not, they 'll die
For ancient Caledonia!
Oh, that Charlie were but here!
The base usurper then might fear—
As loud the din fell on his ear
Of joy in Caledonia!
Heard ye not that distant hum?
And now the pipe, and now the drum,
Proclaim the news that Charlie 's come
To gladden Caledonia!
Tyrants, tremble, Charlie 's here!
Now, indeed, ye 've cause to fear;
Hielan' hearts be of good cheer,
And on for Caledonia!
THE WIDOW'S DAUGHTER.
Why gaze on that pale face,
Childless one, childless one?
Why seek this lonely place?
She hath gone, she hath gone.
Thy daughter is not here,
Widow'd one, widow'd one—
Nay, wipe away that tear,
She hath won, she hath won!