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auld baith battle battle of Culloden blaw blood blude bonnet bonnie Dundee Bonnie laddie bonny maidens boys brae brave brunstane Charlie Stuart clans claymore coming crown Culloden daunton dear deil Donald Macgillavry Duke Dundee e'er Earl Earl of Mar English Ettrick Shepherd fight foes frae friends gallant gane gather Geordie glen gude ha'e hame Hanover haughs of Cromdale Hawley heart Here's a health Highland laddie hills honour house of Stuart Jacobite Jacobite songs Jamie Johnnie Cope Kenmure's lady laird land Lochiel loon Lord Lowland lassie Mac Garadh mair maun mony morning ne'er never o'er ochon plaid Prince Charlie rin awa royal Charlie Scotland Scottish sing Stuart sung sword tartan thee There's thou throne traitors true turn'd wadna weel wha's Whigs Whigs awa Willie winna
Стр. 78 - Israel, whose day is come, when iniquity shall have an end, thus saith the Lord God ; Remove the diadem, and take off the crown: this shall not be the same: exalt him that is low, and abase him that is high. I will overturn, overturn, overturn, it: and it shall be no more, until he come whose right it is; and I will give it him.
Стр. 178 - Twas on a Monday morning Right early in the year, That Charlie came to our town — The Young Chevalier! As he was walking up the street The city for to view, O, there he spied a bonie lass The window looking thro...
Стр. 317 - For a field of the dead rushes red on my sight, And the clans of Culloden are scatter'd in fight. They rally, they bleed, for their kingdom and crown ; Woe, woe to the riders that trample them down ! Proud Cumberland prances, insulting the slain, And their hoof-beaten bosoms are trod to the plain.
Стр. 146 - King! Long live our noble King! God save the King! Send him victorious, Happy and glorious, Long to reign over us! God save the King!
Стр. 111 - Here's Kenmure's health in wine, Willie ! Here's Kenmure's health in wine ; There ne'er was a coward o' Kenmure's blude, Nor yet o
Стр. 117 - And fare thee well, George Collingwood, Since fate has put Us down ; If thou and I have lost our lives, Our king has lost his crown.
Стр. 213 - MOURN, hapless Caledonia ! mourn Thy banish'd peace, thy laurels torn-! Thy sons, for valour long renown'd, Lie slaughter'd on their native ground ; Thy hospitable roofs no more Invite the stranger to the door ; In smoky ruins sunk they lie, The monuments of cruelty.
Стр. 215 - The pious mother, doom'd to death, Forsaken wanders o'er the heath ; The bleak wind whistles round her head, Her helpless orphans cry for bread ; Bereft of shelter, food, and friend, She views the shades of night descend ; And, stretch'd beneath th' inclement skies Weeps o'er her tender babes, and dies.
Стр. 342 - twas Claver'se who spoke, " Ere the King's crown shall fall there are crowns to be broke; So let each Cavalier who loves honour and me, Come follow the bonnet of Bonny Dundee. " Come fill up my cup, come fill up my can, Come saddle your horses, and call up your men; Come open the West Port, and let me gang free, And it's room for the bonnets of Bonny Dundee!