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This is a very popular song, and is imagined to be written by Mr. Geddes, priest at Shenval in the Enzie, on Lord Lewis Gordon, third son of the Duke of Gordon, who raised a rebel regiment in 1745, defeated the Macleods and took possession of Perth. He escaped from the field of Culloden, was attainted by Parliament in 1746, and died at Montreuil in France, in the year 1754. The lad I darena name” was Prince Charles Stuart.

IT'S HAME AND IT'S HAME.

It's hame and its hame, hame fain would I be,

O, hame, hame, hame to my ain countree ! There's an eye that ever wecps, and a fair face will be

fain, As I pass through Annan-water with my bonnie bands

again; When the flower is in the bud, and the leaf upon the

tree, The lark shall sing me hame in my ain countree.

It's hame and its hame, hame fain would I be,

O hame, hame, hame to my ain countree ! The green leaf of loyalty's beginning for to fa', The bonnie white rose it is withering and a', But I'll water't with the blood of usurping tyrannie, And green it will grow in my ain countree.

It's hame and it's hame, hame fain would I be,

O hame, hame, hame to my ain countree !
There's nought now from ruin my country can save
But the keys of kind heaven to open

the

grave, That all the noble martyrs who died for loyaltie May rise again and fight for their ain countree.

It's hame and it's hame, hame fain would I be,

O hame, hame, hame to my ain countree ! The great now are gane, a' who ventured to save; The new grass is growing aboon their bloody grave; But the sun through the mirk blinks blithe in my e'e, I'll shine on ye yet in your ain countree.

This song is noticed in the introduction to the “Fortunes of Nigel," and part of it is sung by Richie Moniplies. It is supposed to come from the lips of a Scottish Jacobite exile. The old song of the same name had a similar chorus, and one good verse. Against the British Aeet, which was then-and may it ever continue !-master of the sea, the poet prayed for very effectual aid :

May the ocean stop and stand, like walls on every side, That our gallant chiefs may pass, wi' heaven for their

guide !-Dry up the Forth and Tweed, as thou didst the Red

Sea,
When the Israelites did pass to their ain countree.

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The wind comes frae the land I love,
It moves the

gray

flood rarely ;Look for the lily on the lea,

And look for royal Charlie. Ten thousand swords shall leave their sheaths,

And smite fu' sharp and sairly; '-'I And Gordon's might, and Erskine's pride,

Shall live and die wi' Charlie.

The sun shines out-wide smiles the sea,

The lily blossoms rarely ;
O yonder comes his gallant ship-

Thrice welcome, royal Charlie!
Yes, yon's a good and gallant ship,

Wi' banners flaunting fairly;
But should it meet your darling prince,

'Twill feast the fish wi' Charlie.

Wide rustled she her silks in pride,

And waved her white hand lordlie And drew a bright sword from the sheath,

And answered high and proudlie. I had three sons, and a good lord,

Wha sold their lives fu' dearlieAnd wi' their dust I'd mingle mine,

For love of gallant Charlie.

It wad hae made a hale heart sair

To see our horsemen flying ;-
And my three bairns, and my good lord,

Amang the dead and dying :
I snatched a bannerled them back-

The white rose flourish'd rarely:-
The deed I did for royal James

I'd do again for Charlie.

Most of our Scottish ladies were vehement Jacobites, and Duncan Forbes found that men's swords did less for the cause of Prince Charles than the tongues of his fair countrywomen. Like Mause Headrigg they cried out, “Testify with your hands as we testify with our tongues, and they will never be able to harl the blessed youth into captivity." The gentlemen had the fear of forfeiture and the headsman's axe upon them; but the ladies saw in imagination the splendour of ancient royalty returning to Scotland, and had visions promising themselves an increase of importance and glory. This song comes from the lips of one of those resolute heroines-probably a lady of the family of Mar. The noble name of Erskine has lately been restored to its honours-an act of tardy but generous clemency.

O’ER THE WATER TO CHARLIE.

Come boat me o'er, come row me o'er,

Come boat me o'er to Charlie !
I'll gi'e John Brown another halfcrown

To boat me o'er to Charlie.
We'll o'er the water, we'll o'er the sea,

We'll o'er the water to Charlie ;
Come weal, come woe, we'll gather and go,

And live or die wi' Charlie.

I lo'e weel

my

Charlie's name, Though some there be abhor him ; I'd sing to see auld Nick

gaun

hame Wi' Charlie's foes afore him. We'll o'er the water, we'll o'er the sea,

We'll o'er the water to Charlie ; The mirkest night will draw to light,

There's sunshine yet for Charlie.

I swear and vow by moon and stars,

And sun that shines sae clearlie,
If I had twenty thousand lives,

I'd die as aft for Charlie.
We'll o'er the water, we'll o'er the sea,

We'll o'er the water to Charlie;
This sword that shone at Bannockburn

Shall shine again for Charlie.

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