The Prophecy ©

“It cam’ wi’ ane lass, an’ it’ll pass wi’ ane lass”
Were the prophetic words o’ her faither King James
Oan hearin’ the news o’ the birth at the Palace
He laid doon an’ deid, haundin’ Mary o’er the reigns

At nine months o’ age, oor Mary is Queen
Securely strapped intae her wee baby seat
Wi’ rings oan her fingers, a sight tae be seen
Suckin’ awa’ merrily oan her Royal dummy teat

There were battles a’ ragin’ a’ roon’ aboot
In Kelso, an’ Jedburgh, King Henry did loot
When the wee Queen wis four, there wis an enquiry
An’ for safety took Mary tae Inchmahome Priory

Wi’ loads o’ disorder, at Dunbar oan the border
The English were gein’ us a whole lot o’ hassle
King Henri o’ France, then geid oot an order
“We’ll be there, send Mary doon tae Dumbarton Castle”