The Forty-Five in Song

[SherbrookeJacobite]

Although, in terms of numbers, it was a minor conflict, the Rising of 1745 has spawned many songs. In memory of the Battle of Culloden, which happened 260 years ago tomorrow, here are some songs, in sort of chronological order, remembering the '45.

Wha'll Be King But Charlie?

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The news from Moidart cam yestreen
Will soon gar mony ferlie,
For ships o war hae just come in
And landed Royal Charlie.


Come through the heather, around him gather,
Ye're all the welcomer early;
Around him cling with a your kin,
For wha'll be King but Charlie?
Come through the heather, around him gather
Come Ronald, come Donald, come a thegither;
And crown your rightfu lawfu King
For wha'll be King but Charlie?

The Highland clans with sword in hand
Frae John o Groats tae Airlie
Hae tae a man declared to stand
Or fa wi Royal Charlie.

The Lowlands a, both great an sma,
Wi many's a lord and laird hae
Declared for Scotia's King an Law,
And spier ye wha, but Charlie.

There's ne'er a lass in a the land
But vows both late and early
To man she'll neer give heart nor hand
Wha wadna fecht fer Charlie.

Then here's a health tae Charlie's cause,
And be't complete and early;
His very name our heart's bluid warms;
Tae arms for Royal Charlie.

Lyrics by Carolina Oliphant, Lady Nairne (1766-1845).

[SherbrookeJacobite]

Cam Ye By Atholl
(Trad)

Cam ye by Atholl lad wi' the philabeg
Down by the Tummel or banks o' the Garry?
Saw ye the lads wi' their bonnets and white cockades
Down from their mountains to follow Prince Charlie

Follow ye, follow ye, whae wadnae follow ye?
Lang hae ye loved us and trusted us fairly
Charlie, Charlie, whae wadnae follow ye
King o' the hieland hearts, Bonnie Prince Charlie

I have but one son my gallant young Donald
But had I ten, they would follow Prince Charlie
Health to McDonald and gallant Clan Ronald
These are the men I can trust wi' my Charlie

Follow ye, follow ye, whae wadnae follow ye?
Lang hae ye loved us and trusted us fairly
Charlie, Charlie, whae wadnae follow ye
King o' the hieland hearts, Bonnie Prince Charlie

I'll go to Lochiel and Appin and kneel to them
Down by Lord Murray and Roy o' Kildarlie
Brave McIntosh he will fly to the field wi' them
These are the men that would die for their Charlie

Follow ye, follow ye, whae wadnae follow ye?
Lang hae ye loved us and trusted us fairly
Charlie, Charlie, whae wadnae follow ye
King o' the hieland hearts, Bonnie Prince Charlie

Down through the lowlands, down wi' the Whigamore
Loyal true higlanders down wi' them rarely
Ronald and Donald drive on wi' the broad claymore
Over the necks of the foes o' Prince Charlie

Follow ye, follow ye, whae wadnae follow ye?
Lang hae ye loved us and trusted us fairly
Charlie, Charlie, whae wadnae follow ye
King o' the hieland hearts, Bonnie Prince Charlie

[SherbrookeJacobite]

Johnnie Cope

Hey, Johnnie Cope, are ye wauking yet?
Or are your drums a-beating yet?
If ye were wauking I wad wait
To gang to the coals i' the morning.

Cope sent a challenge frae Dunbar:
'Charlie, meet me an' ye daur,
An' I'll learn you the art o' war
If you'll meet me i' the morning.'

When Charlie looked the letter upon
He drew his sword the scabbard from:
'Come, follow me, my merry merry men,
And we'll meet Johnnie Cope i' the morningl

'Now Johnnie, be as good's your word;
Come, let us try both fire and sword;
And dinna rin like a frichted bird,
That's chased frae its nest i' the morning.'

When Johnnie Cope he heard of this,
He thought it wadna be amiss
To hae a horse in readiness,
To flee awa' i' the morning.

Fy now, Johnnie, get up an' rin;
The Highland bagpipes mak' a din;
It's best to sleep in a hale skin,
For 'twill be a bluidy morning.

When Johnnie Cope tae Dunbar came,
They speired at him, 'Where's a' your men?'
'The deil confound me gin I ken,
For I left them a' i' the morning.

'Now Johnnie, troth, ye werena blate
To come wi' news o' your ain defeat,
And leave your men in sic a strait
Sae early in the morning.

'I' faith,' quo' Johnnie, 'I got sic flegs
Wi' their claymores an' philabegs;
If I face them again, deil break my legs!
Sae I wish you a' gude morning'.

[SherbrookeJacobite]

Culloden's Harvest

Cold the wind on the moors blow
Warm the enemy's fire glows
Black the harvest of Culloden
Pain and fear and death grow

'Twas love of our prince drove us on to Drumossie
But in scarcely the time that it takes me to tell
The flower of our country lay scorched by an army
As ruthless and red as the embers of hell

Red Campbell the fox did the work of the English
MacDonald in anger did no work at all
With musket and cannon 'gainst claymore and courage
The invader's men stood while our clansmen did fall

Now mothers and children are left to their weeping
With only the memory of father and son
Turned out of their homes to make shelter for strangers
The blackest of hours on this land has begun

[SherbrookeJacobite]

The Skye Boat Song

Speed bonnie boat like a bird on the wing
Onward the sailors cry
Carry the lad that's born to be king
Over the sea to Skye

Loud the wind howls, loud the waves roar,
Thunderclaps rend the air
Baffled our foes, stand by the shore
Follow they will not dare

Many's the lad fought on that day
Well the claymore did wield
When the night came, silently lain
Dead on Culloden field

Though the waves heave, soft will ye sleep
Ocean's a royal bed
Rocked in the deep, Flora will keep
Watch by your weary head

Burned are our homes, exile and death
Scatter the loyal men
Yet e'er the sword cool in the sheath
Charlie will come again.

[SherbrookeJacobite]

The Bonnie Banks O' Loch Lomond
by Andrew Lang
circa 1876


There's an ending o' the dance, and fair Morag's safe in France,
And the Clans they hae paid the lawing,
And the wuddy has her ain, and we twa are left alane,
Free o' Carlisle gaol in the dawing.
So ye'll tak the high road, and I'll tak the laigh road,
An' I'll be in Scotland before ye:
But me and my true love will never meet again,
By the bonnie, bonnie banks o' Loch Lomond.

For my love's heart brake in twa, when she kenned the Cause's fa',
And she sleeps where there's never nane shall waken,
Where the glen lies a' in wrack, wi' the houses toom and black,
And her father's ha's forsaken.

While there's heather on the hill shall my vengeance ne'er be still,
While a bush hides the glint o' a gun, lad;
Wi' the men o' Sergeant Môr shall I work to pay the score,
Till I wither on the wuddy in the sun, lad!

So ye'll tak the high road, and I'll tak the laigh road,
An' I'll be in Scotland before ye:
But me and my true love will never meet again,
By the bonnie, bonnie banks o' Loch Lomond.

[ANDY-J3]

The tune to Johnnie Cope will be well known to people because Andy Stewart used it with slight modifications,for his song "Donald where's yer troosers".