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136
Andrew Lang
Thy great ancestors do look down
With joy to see themselves outdone
By a young Hero of their own,
Begetting who's most lovely.
O happy Scotland ! shall thou be
When Royal J s reigns over thee,
And C s, our P ce, who favours thee,
And dearly ay will love thee.
[This was apparently composed in the hopeful period between Preston Pans and
the Retreat from Derby.]
A SONG
THOUGH G die reigns in J
ie's stead
I'm griev'd, yet scorn to shew that ;
I'll ne'er look down, nor hing my head
On Rebel W gs for a' that ;
But still I'll trust in Providence,
And still I'll laugh at a' that ;
And sing, He's o'er the hills this night
That I love weel for a' that.
He's far 'yont Killebrae this night
That I love weel for a' that ;
He wears a pistol on his side,
Which makes me blyth for a' that :
The highland coat, the philabeg,
The tartan-trouze, and a' that,
He wears, that's o'er the hills this night,
And will be here for a' that.
He wears a broad-sword on his side,
He kens weel how to draw that ;
The target, and the highland plaid,
And shoulder-belt, and a' that :
A bonnet bound with ribbons blue,
A white cockade, and a' that,
He wears, that's o'er the hills this night,
And will be here for a' that.
The W gs think a' that Willie's mine
But yet they maunna' fa' that ;
They think our hearts will be cast down,
But we'll be blyth for a' that,
For a' that, and a' that,
And thrice as meikle's a' that ;
He's bonny that's o'er the hills this night,
And will be here for a' that.