150 DONALD'S FLITTIN ! ci 



Ye focht for them, ye bled for them, 



Sae lang's a sword ye'd draw, 

 An' though ye got but little for't, 



Now ye maun gang awa' ! 



Puir Donald, man, where is he gaun ? 



His wife and bairnies twa ? 

 " Oh, fient care I," the laird, said he, 



" So that they gang awa' ! " 



The wife sat by her cauld hearth-stane, 



She couldna thole her fa' ; 

 She moaned and sighed, and groaned and grat 



She wadna gang awa' ! 



The licht was set to theek and roof, 



The fire ran up the wa' ! 

 Alas ! the Hieland mother now 



Was forced to gang awa' ! 



Got owre the cot, upon a stane 



She sat, wi' bairuies twa ; 

 Her heart was brak, she could but dee ; 



She couldna gang awa' ! 



He couldna use his dirk the noo, 



The laird was right in law ; 

 Sae Donald gave up house and haine, 



And syne he gaed awa' ! 



Across the seas he dreams o' hame, 



Far off in Canada ; 

 But grim and bitter Donald thinks 



Of when he gaed awa' 1 



