It was a' for our rightfu' king

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It was a' for our rightfu' king

A Jacobite air: a lament of someone going into exile, possibly after the 1715 or 1745 uprising.

It was a' for oor rightfu' king
We left fair Scotland's strand.
It was a' for oor rightfu' king
We e'er saw Irish land, my dear,
We e'er saw Irish land.

Now a' is done that men can do,
And a' is done in vain;
My love, my native land, farewell,
For I maun cross the main, my dear,
For I maun cross the main.

He turned him right, an' round about
Upon the Irish shore,
An he ga'e his bridle cakes a shake,
With Adieu for evermore, my dear,
With Adieu for evermore.

The sodger frae the wars returns,
The sailor frae the main;
But I ha'e parted frae my love,
Never to meet again, my dear,
Never to meet again.

When day is gone, an' night is come,
An a' folk bound to sleep;
I think on him that's far awa',
The lee lang night, and weep, my dear,
The lee lang night, and weep.

A Jacobite air: a lament of someone going into exile, possibly after the 1715 or 1745 uprising.

It was a' for oor rightfu' king We left fair Scotland's strand. It was a' for oor rightfu' king We e'er saw Irish land, my dear, We e'er saw Irish land. Now a' is done that men can do, And a' is done in vain; My love, my native land, farewell, For I maun cross the main, my dear, For I maun cross the main. He turned him right, an' round about Upon the Irish shore, An he ga'e his bridle cakes a shake, With Adieu for evermore, my dear, With Adieu for evermore. The sodger frae the wars returns, The sailor frae the main; But I ha'e parted frae my love, Never to meet again, my dear, Never to meet again. When day is gone, an' night is come, An a' folk bound to sleep; I think on him that's far awa', The lee lang night, and weep, my dear, The lee lang night, and weep.