Page:Said a smile to a tear.pdf/7

7 Till Charlie Stewart cam at last

Sae far to set us free;

My Donald’s arm was wanted then,

For Scotland and for me.

Their waefu’ fate what need I tell—

Right to the wrang did yieid;

My Donald and his country fell

Upon Culloden field!

I hae nocht left me aya,

Ochon, ochon, ochrie!

But bonnie orphan lad-weans twa,

To seek their bread wi’ me.'

I hae yet a tocher hand,

Ochon, ochon, oolirie.

My winsome Donald's durk an’ bran’,

Into their hands to gie:

There’s only ae blink o’ hope left,

To lighten my auld ee,

To see my bairns git: bluidie crowns,

To them gar't Donald die!

WITHIN A MILE OF EDINBURGH.

’Twas within, a mile of Edinburgh town,

In the rosy time of the year,