The Word on the Street
home | background | illustrations | distribution | highlights | search & browse | resources | contact us

Broadside ballad entitled 'The Bonnets o' Blue'




Copies of this popular song can always be had the POET'S Box,
Overgaie, Dundee.

Noo I'll sing ye a sang in praise o' that land,

Where the snaw never melts on the mountains so grand,

Whaur the sweet purple heuther it covers the Bens,

And the thistle grows green in her valleys and glens.

I'll sing o' that hardy, intellingent race,

Whose valorous deeds time can never efface ;

Whose sires the Romans could never subdue?

I sing o' the lads wi' the Bonnets o' Blue.


Then hurrah for the tartan, the kilt, and the plaid,
Hurrah for the claymore they ware by their side.
Hurrah for the hearts aye sae trusty an trne,
Success tae the lads wi' the Bonnets o' Blue.

Wha hasna heard o' the year Forty-Five,

When Charlie for Scotland sae nobly did strive?

Wha hasna sighed for the heroes sae brave,

That faund at Culloden a glorious grave ?

Their thousands they offered for Charlie's fair head.

But they werena the men for dastardly deed ;

They micht tortur them, hang them, an' starve, 'tis true.

But nae traitors were there 'mang the Bonnets o' Blue.

Ye'll hae heard hoo in Egypt Napoleon the Grate
Lured our brave armey on as they thocht tae their fate,
Ye'll hae heard hoo his boasted Invincidle Corps,
Turned tale at the gliut o' the gleaming claymore ?
An' hoo fairly bewildered he gazed whea he saw,
That galent advance of the brave Forty-Twa,
When his trusty auld Guardsman at famed Waterloo,
They ran frae the charge o' the Boanets o' Blue.

Up the Alma's grim heights for tae conquror or die,

The bonnie green tartan gangs wavin' on high,

'The pipes are soundin' the slogan sae cheer

And it blends with the shout as they charge and they cleer.

When Cambridge he faltered an' turned, it was then.

Sir Colin he sprang tae the front wi' his men,

An' he cried, as his claymore like lightnin' he draw,

Mak' way for the lads wi' the Bonnets o' Blue

Swift was that terrible march o' the Gael,

The men who were never yet known for tae fail :

Heard was the stroke o' each trusty claymore,

Whe relieving Lucknow oravening Cawnpore.

Victoria kons ; aye, she kens braw an' weel,

That oor ain kiltie lads are as true sa their steel,

An' whenever there's daugerous work for to do,
She sends for the lads wi' the Bonnets o' Blue.

previous pageprevious          
Probable period of publication: 1880-1900   shelfmark: L.C.Fol.70(22a)
Broadside ballad entitled 'The Bonnets o' Blue'
View larger image

NLS home page   |   Digital gallery   |   Credits

National Library of Scotland © 2004

National Library of Scotland