THE WHITE COCKADE
Irish Jacobite Song-By J. J. Callartan.
Prince Charles he is King James's son
And from a royal line he sprung;
Then up with shout, and out with blade,
And we'll raise once more the white cockade.
O! my dear, my fair-hair'd youth,
Thou yet hast hearts of fire and truth;
Then up with shout, and out with bladeWe'll raise once more the white cockade.
My young men's hearts are dark with woe;
On my virgins' cheeks the grief-drops flow;
The sun scarce lights the sorrowing day,
Since our rightful prince went far away.
He's gone, the stranger holds his throne;
The royal bird far off is flown;
But up with shout, and out with bladeWe'll stand or fall with the white cockade.
No more the cuckoo hails the Spring,
The woods no more with staunch hounds ring;
The song from the glen so sweet before
Is bush'd since Charles has left our shore.
The Prince is gone, but he soon will come,
With trumpet-sound and with beat of drum;
Then up with the shout, and out with the blade
Huzza for the right and the white cockade.