Come o'er the stream, Charlie, Dear Charlie, brave Charlie; Come o'er the stream, Charlie, And dine with M'Lean; If aught will invite you Or more will delight you 'Tis ready, a troop of our bold Highlandmen, All ranged on the heather, With bonnet and feather, Strong arms and broad claymores, Three hundred and ten!
[56] I versified this song at Meggernie Castle, in Glen-Lyon, from a scrap of prose said to be the translation, _verbatim_, of a Gaelic song, and to a Gaelic air, sung by one of the sweetest singers and most accomplished and angelic beings of the human race. But, alas! earthly happiness is not always the lot of those who, in our erring estimation, most deserve it. She is now no more, and many a strain have I poured to her memory. The air is arranged by Smith.--See the "Scottish Minstrel."--_Hogg._
'Twas on a Monday morning, Right early in the year, That Charlie cam' to our town, The young Chevalier. An' Charlie is my darling, My darling, my darling; Charlie is my darling, The young Chevalier.
As Charlie he came up the gate, His face shone like the day; I grat to see the lad come back That had been lang away. An' Charlie is my darling, &c.
Then ilka bonny lassie sang, As to the door she ran, Our King shall hae his ain again, An' Charlie is the man: For Charlie he 's my darling, &c.
Out ow'r yon moory mountain, An' down the craggy glen, Of naething else our lasses sing, But Charlie an' his men. An' Charlie he 's my darling, &c.
Our Highland hearts are true an' leal, An' glow without a stain; Our Highland swords are metal keen, An' Charlie he 's our ain. An' Charlie he 's my darling, My darling, my darling; Charlie he 's my darling, The young Chevalier.
[57] Altered at the request of a lady who sang it sweetly, and published in the "Jacobite Relics."--_Hogg._
I lately lived in quiet ease, An' never wish'd to marry, O! But when I saw my Peggy's face, I felt a sad quandary, O! Though wild as ony Athol deer, She has trepann'd me fairly, O! Her cherry cheeks an' e'en sae clear Torment me late an' early, O! O, love, love, love! Love is like a dizziness, It winna let a poor body Gang about his business!
To tell my feats this single week, Would mak' a daft-like diary, O! I drave my cart outow'r a dike, My horses in a miry, O! I wear my stockings white an' blue, My love 's sae fierce an' fiery, O! I drill the land that I should plough, An' plough the drills entirely, O! O, love, love, love! &c.