THE BONNIE PRINCE O' SPRING
The little green soldiers are here at last, With their waving blades and spears;And across the hills they are marching fast With the drill of a thousand years:
And I wave afar, and I shout, Hurrah!
Till I hear their echoing cheers.
A bonnie prince is at their head, And his love the legions know:
For he gives them rest where the twigs are red At the hedges cool in a row:
And afoot are they soon to a birdlike tune On the northward march to go.
Oh, I am leal to the marching men, To my bonnie Prince I'm true;For he tells me the way to his tented glen, And the secret password too:
And he sets in my hair a blossom to wear, Like his own good horsemen do.
Then I will follow on all the day Where the bonnie Prince has led, Till we drive the Winter foeman away And throne my Prince instead:
And sing willaloo! With the birds, willaloo!
For the Winter King is dead.
