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There's news from Moidart, cam{e} yesteem.
Will soon gar monie forlie,
{The} For ships of war had just come in,
And landed royal Charlie,
Come through the heather, around him gather.
Come Ronald, come Donald come a' thegither {all together},
And crown your rightfu' lawfu' King.
For wha'lll be King but Charlie
Come through the heather, around him gather, The welcome early
Around him cling, with a' your kin,
For wha'll be King, but Charlie.

The highlan clans, baith great & sma;
Frae John O Groats to Airlie
Hae' to a man, declared they'll stand
Or fa', wi' Royal Charlie.
The lowland Clans-wi heart & hands
Have to a man declared a'
Lo fight for Teo-Hands' [?] & law.
For wha'll be King but Charlie.

There's ne'er a [?] in a' {all} the land,
But [?] baith late & earlie,
To man she'll ne'er gie heartrer hand,
Wha wad na fight for Charlie.