# Carle now the King's come

Carle now the King's come;
Composed on the occasion of his Majesty,
KING GEORGE IV.'s
Visit to Scotland,
In August, 1822.
IN TWO PARTS.
STIRLING: Printed and Sold by W. Macnie, Bookseller.
CARLE NOW THE KING'S COME.
The news has flown frae, mouth to mouth, The North for ance has bang'd the South: The de'il a Scotsman's die of drouth, Carle now the King's come!
CHORUS
Carle, now the King's come, Carle, now the King's come, Thou shalt dance, and I will sing, Carle, now the King's come.
Auld England held him lang and fast; And Ireland had a joyfu' cast; But Scotland's turn has core at last— Carle, now the Kiug's come.
Auld Reekie in her rokela gray, Thought never to bave seen the day; He's been a weary time away— Carle, now the King's come.
She's kiring frae the Castle Hill; The Carline's voice is grown sae shrill, (illegible text) post at the Canon Mill, Carle now the King's come.
Up, bairns! she cries, baith grit and sma', And busk ye for the weapon-shaw, Stand by me, and we'll bang them a', Carle, now the King's come.
Come from Newbattles ancient spires, Bauld Lothian, with your knights, and squires, And match the mettle of your sires, Carle, now the King's come.
You're welcome hame, my Monteague, And bring in your hand the young Buccleugh; I'm missing some that I may rue,
Carle now the King's come.
Come, Haddington, the kind and gay You've graced my causeway mony a day; I'll weep the cause if you should stay Carle, now the King's come.
Come, premier Duke, and carry down, Frae yonder Craig; our ancient croun; It's had a lang sleep and a soun'— Carle, now the King's come.
Come, Athole, from the hill and wood, Bring down your clansmen like a cloud: Come, Morton, shew the Douglas' blood, Carle, now the King's come.
Come, Tweeddale, true as sword to sheath; Come, Hopetoun, fear'd on fields of death; Come, Clerk, and give your bugle breath; Carle, now the King's come.
Come, Wemyss, who modest merit aids; Come, Roseberry, from Dalmeny shades; Breadalbane, bring your belted plaids; Carle, now the King's come.
Come, stately Niddrie, auld and true, Girt with the sword that Minden knew; We have new few such lairds as you— Carle, now the King's come.
King Arthur's grown a common crier, He s heard in Fife and far Cantire,— Fie, lads, behold my creet on fire, Carle, now the King's come.
Saint Abb roars out I see him pass Between Tantallon and the Bass— Calton, get out your kneeking-glass, Carle, now the King's come.
The Carline stopp'd; and, sure I am, For very glee had ta'en a dwam, But Oman help'd ber to a dram— Cogie, now the King's come.
Cogie, now the King's come, Cogie, now the King's come, I'se be fou, and ye's be toom, Cogie, now the King come.
PART SECOND.
She toomed her quaigh of mountain dew, It raised her heart the higher too, Because it came from Waterloo— Carle, now the King's come.
Again I heard her summons swell, For, sie a dirdum and a yell, It drown'd Saint Giles's jowing bell— Carle, now the King's come.
My trusty Provost, tried and tight, Stand forward for the gude Town's right, There's waur than you been made a knight— Carle, now the King's come.
My reverend Clergy, see ye say The best of thanksgiving ye ha'e, And warstle for a sunny day— Carle, now the King's come.
My Doctors look that you agree, Cure a' the town without a fae; My lawyers, dinna pick a plea— Carle, now the King's come.
Come forth each sturdy Burgher's bairn, That dints on wood or clarks on airn, That fires the o'en, or winds the pirn— Carle, now the King's come.
Come forward with the Blanket blue, Your sires were loyal men and true, As Scotland's foeman oft might rue— Carle, now the King's come.
Scots downs loup, and rin a rave, We're steady folks, and something grave, We'll keep the causeway firm and brave— Carle, now the King's come.
Sir Thomas thunder from your rock, Till Pentland dinles wi' the shock. I'll hae a braw new snood o' smoke— Carle, now the King's come.
Melvile, bring out your bands of blue, A' Londen lads, baith stout and true, With Elcho, Hope' and Cockburn too— Carle, now the King's come.
And you who, on you bluidy braes, Compell'd the vanquish'd foeman's praise, Rank out—rank out—my gallant greys— Carle, now the King's come.
Cock of the North, my Huntly bra', Where are you with my Forty-twa? Ah! waes my heart that ye're awa— Carle now the King's come.
But yonder comes my canty Celts, With durk and pistol at their belts, Thank God, we've still some plaids and kilts— Carle, now the King's come.
Come, cock your cap each Archer spark, For you're to guard, him light and dark; Faith, lads, I trow ye've hit the mark— Carle, now the King's come.
Young Errol take the sword of stale, The sceptre Paviemorarchate; Knight Mareschals, see ye clear the gate— Carle, now the King's come.
Kind Cummer, Leith, ye've been mis-set, But dinna be upon the fret— Ye'se get the handsel of him yet, Carle, now the King's come.
My daughters, come with een sae blue, Your garlands reave, your wild flow'rs strew; He ne'er saw fairer flow'rs than you— Carle, now the King's come.
What shall we do for the propine, We used to offer something fine, But de'il a groan's in pouch of mine— Carle, now the King's come.
De'il care—for that I'se never start. We'll welcome him with Highland heart; Whate'er we have he's get a part— Carle, now the King's come.
I'll show him mason-work this day— Nane of your bricks of Babel clay. But towers shall stand till Time's away— Carle, new the King's come.
And here's Sir John of projects rife, Will win the thanks of an auld wife, And bring her health and length of life— Carle, now the King's come.
FINIS
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
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