Classic Poem

Air — The King sits in Dunfermline Town .

Our good king sits in Windsor tower,
The sun-beams glint sae cheerfu'!
A birdie sang in yonder bower,
And O! but it sang fearfu'!
Tell me, my bird, my mourning bird,
What is't you sing sae drearie?
I sing o' danger, fire, and sword;
Fell faes are coming near ye!

The king stept on his terraced height,
His heart was bauld and cheerie;
" I fear no foe by day or night,
While Britain's sons are near me! "

The bird aye sang upon the thorn,
And aye its sang was fearfu';
Good king! your ships maun sail the morn,
For England's faes are near you!

The king looked frae his castle hie;
His look was blythe and airy;
" There's not a foe dares face the sea!
Brave England's tars are there aye! "
The birdie sang aye on the thorn,
But now its sang grew cheerfu';
Good king! we'll laugh your faes to scorn;
There's nought I see to fear now!

The birdie flew on blythesome wing,
And O! but it sang rarely;
And aye it sang, " God bless our King!
Bauld Britons luve him dearly. "
It flew o'er hill, it flew o'er lea,
It sang o'er moor and hether,
Till it cam to the north countrie ,
Whar a' sang blythe thegither.

They sang o' fame and martial might,
(The pride o' Scottish story)
They sang o' E DWARD'S wars and flight,
And B RUCE'S radiant glory!
They laughed at Gallia's threat'ning ills —
(Their shield was patriot honour;)
They rushed down Freedom's heath-flowered hills,
And, rattling, joined their banner!