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I may sit in my wee old house At the spinning wheel to toil so dreary I may think of a day that is gone And sigh and some till I grow weary I ne'er could brook I ne'er could brook A foreign king to own or flatter And I will sing a ranting song The day our king comes o'er the water I have seen the good old day The day of pride and chieftain's glory When royal Stuart held the sway And none heard tell of Whig or Tory Though silver be my hair one day And age has struck me down what matter I'll dance and sing the happy day The day our king comes o'er the water If i live to see the day That i have begged and begged for ever I'll fling my rock and wheel away And dance and sing from morn till evening For there is one I will not name Who comes the bended fluoric to scatter And I'll put on my bridal gown The day our king comes o'er the water A curse on all the drolling Whig The whining ranting loud deceiver With heart so black and lies so big The canting tongue of Crash McQuaver My father was a good lord's son My mother was an earl's daughter And i'll be Lady Keith again The day our king comes o'er the water
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