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Elphinstone Kist   Bairn-Sang, Music, History

King Charles I     by: Blackhall, Sheena

(19/11/1600, Dunfermline Castle - 30/1/1649, Whitehall scaffold)

Tune: Barbara Allan
Written during a visit to Fyvie Castle, organised by the National Trust

King Charles rose up thon hinmaist morn, twa sarks he chose tae weir,
Lest he should shakk, an fowk mistakk pure cauld, fur signs o fear.
They brocht his littlins tae his room, sae they micht takk their leave,
An he has pressed them tae his breist, an telt them nae tae grieve.

The anely soun, the beatin drum, the craikin o a craa,
As past the silent crowds they lead their monarch tae his faa.
Afore the scaffold happt in black, (the hooded heidsman's airt)
The boughs war bauld, the Thames rowed cauld, through Lunnon's frozen hairt.

The first step up the scaffold stair, he stamped his fit wi rage,
For aa unfair, he saw aince mair, the mock trial o the age.
The second step King Charles took, he faltered wi his fit,
He felt the stangs o Civil War, an kent the waste o it.

The third step that King Charles tuik, his brither Scots sae quick,
Tae save their kirk, drew sword an dirk, afore his prayers they'd spikk.
The fourth step that King Charles tuik, his een luiked hyne awa,
On war wi France, on war wi Spain, that brocht nae gain ava.

The fifth step that Charles Stewart tuik, wi ile they did anoint him,
In costly goun, he wore the croon, as king they did appoint him.
The saxth step up the scaffold stair, he welcomed hame his queen,
A fleur-de-lis brocht ower frae France, sweet maid o new saxteen.

The seventh step King Charles tuik, his hairt wis like tae brakk,
He stude at Fyvie's castle yett, the Ythan at its back.
In Fyvie's green an pleisunt lan, the infant king wis free,
Tae rin its braw, blink-bonnie braes wi Seton's faimily.

The tapmaist step! He faced his foes, an spakk oot lood an clear.
The sodjers drave the crowds awa, for fear that they wad hear.
An syne, thon slicht an cultured man, luiked Terror in the ee,
Tae show the leal, fu brave an weel a Stewart King could dee.

He's laid him doon, raxxed oot his airms, like Christ on Calvary,
The swingin blade a martyr made tae greet Eternity.



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