A wee bird cam tae oor ha' door,

He warbled sweet an early,

And aye the ower cam o his sang

Was " Wae's me for Prince Chairlie."

Oh, when I heard the bonnie bird,

The tears cam drappin' rarely,

I took my bannet aff my heid

For weel I lo'ed Prince Chairlie.

 

Quoth I, " My bird, my bonnie, bonnie bird,

Is that a sang ye borrow ?

Or is't some words ye've larned by rote

A lilt o' dule an sorrow ?"

" Oh, no, no no, " the wee bird sang,

I've flewn since mornin' early,

But sic a day o' wind an rain,

Oh, wae's me for Prince Chairlie."

 

" On hills that are by richt his ain,

He roves a lanely stranger,

On every side he's pressed by want,

On every hand by danger.

Yestreen I met him in a glen,

My hert near bursted fairly,

For sadly changed indeed was he,

Oh, wae's me for Prince Chairlie."

 

" Dark nicht cam on, the tempest roared,

Lood ower the hills and valleys,

An whaur was't that yer prince lay doon,

Whase hame should've been a palace ?

He rowed him in a Hielan plaid

That covered him but sparely,

And slept beneath a bush o' broom,

Oh, wae's me for Prince Chairlie."