Category Archives: Charlie!

Charlie: Scenes 18-23

SCENE 18 – The Maclean’s Village

Morag is working – enter Angus & Eric

Angus
Morag! Morag!

Morag
Angus, thank God

Angus
The boy needs help

Morag
Dinnae worry Eric, ya safe home now

Angus
You should be proud of those wounds lad – as big as medals they are

Morag
Where’s David

Angus
Steady yerself lass – he’s doon amang the deid noo – he was brave – he burst through their lines like a stag, but never came out again – it was a slaughter – I found Eric on my way out a that madness – but this is no turn to grieve lass – your son needs your help

Morag
Come here lad, let me wash & dress you wounds – I’ve a little gibean left, that will help

Angus
Where’s Megan

Morag
She went looking for Fergus, have ya seen him

Angus
He was alive – but I dinnae fancy his chances much – I’ve never seen anything like it – there must have been, what, a thoosand dead clansman on that field – the Flower of the Highlands – & on the way to Inverness, at least three hundred more, cut down by those blasted dragoons doing the black work of the de’il himself – I saw some poor Macgregors herded into a bothy & burnt alive

Eric squeals in pain

Morag
Its good for you lad, if it hurts it means its working

Angus
I’ll leave the lad with you, I’m going back to war

Morag
What, back! To war! Are ya mad or something?

Angus
I’m nae mad, I’m maddened, I’ve got tae carry on fighting, what else – the army, what’s left of ’em, are meeting at Ruthven Barracks – we must keep the struggle up else all shall be lost – they’ll drive us off the land, you know, replace us with sheep and cattle, we must keep on fighting – there must be another 20,000 highland soldiers what wasnae at Culloden – we can still win, Morag

Morag
It disnae bode well Angus

Eric
Aye father – there was many a lowland Scot fighting for the English on the moor – & there’ll be plenty more where those turncoats came from

Angus
To think that the Stewarts are descended from The Bruce himself – what a mess the country’s got itself into, eh? – & that’s why I have tae carry on – Morag, look after the boy, & bide well my love

Exit Angus

Morag
Here laddie, how are you feeling

Eric
F++kin’ sore

Morag
Language, Eric – you’ll be well in no time – wait, what’s that – I hear voices… they’re English – aw – we’ve got ta hide ya lad – come here

Morage drags Eric to a hiding place / Enter Cumberland & soldiers A&B

Cumberland
Come here old hag – yes, you – if you tell me where any rebels are hiding your life will be spared

Morag
Their arent any Jacobites around here m’lord

Cumberland
Don’t take me a fool, we know Duncan was with the Prince – men, seach the village

Soldier
Sir, look, a trail of blood

Cumberland
Follow it then, follow it

Soldier discovers Eric & drags him out

Cumberland
Well, well, what have we here – I warned you hag – kill them both

Morag
But I am a poor woman, & this laddie’s here wounded

Cumberland
That is of no consequence – he is a rebel & you are in league with him – in the name of justice King George you must both be put to death at once

Morag
No, dinnae!

Eric & Morag are shot in the heads

Cumberland
My boots – I have blood on my boots – next time take them into the woods or something

Soldier A
Sorry sir

Cumberland
No matter, good work, carry on the search then burn down the village


SCENE 19 – Ruthven Barracks

 – the surviving highlanders are gathering

Murray
O what a sight, oor brave unbroken clans
Three thousand claymores gathered ever proud
Far more than fought thro Killicrankie’s cloud
Or slaughter’d Johnnie cope at Prestonpans
Enough to battle through the coming days
Up in the hills where England fears to tread
Discovering all their unburied dead
By empty coats & bleached bones on the braes
For while we Highlanders together stand,
No conqueror these mountains can command!

Enter D’Eguiles

D’Eguiles
Attention! You brave soldiers of Scotland
I have a solemn message in my hand
Recently scrivven by the Prince of Wales –
“Alas! Our fate sea-shock’d by fortune’s gales
& I must sail to fight the war from France
& to en end has come this tragic dance
& to each man that here I leave behind
Pray do thy best by thee & thine own kind
God bless my brave, brave warriors, god bless,
Tho bravest bloom’d the heart our fate fared less! “

Maclean
Och – let him go, he was no man of arms
His frilly shirt could not defend oor farms
His pampered breast no match for highland brawn
Men like Angus Maclean the better born
A man that I have kenn’d as my own son
With him alive the war can still be won
Tho’ sixty his claymore again survives
As it has done nigh twenty times before
So let us cry aboot our bonnie land
As one clan let we noble clansmen stand

Lochiel
This is the volley of desperation
For the folly of a generation
Was at Culloden ever put to bed
What use a lethal asp without its head
What use a sword without an arm to draw
Without a cry of charge what use a roar
The catalyst of all oor unity
Returning to his distant Italy
Defending hame & family & clan
Now each must do the best that each man can

Angus
Gan, gan all of ye, gan back to your hames –
I kill’d at Killiecrankie for King James
At Sherrifmuir I slew a dozen men
At Prestonpans a dozen more ye ken
At Falkirk my count was upp’d to twenty
& at Culloden Moor I fell’d plenty
But what good has it done, I lost a son
& lucky here, for I lost only one
& tho I’ll always be a Jacobite,
Now only in my field-songs I shall fight

Exit the Highland army singing On the Sweet Bonnie Banks of Loch Lomond

D’Eguiles
Alas that once impassion’d host
Left to the hanging tree
Now I must search the rocky coast
To join the prince’s ailing ghost
In pale solemnity

 


SCENE 20 – South Uist

Flora MacDonald is washing & singing with her Irish maid Betty

IF THIS IS SCOTLAND

Life, life, O what could it mean
Youre born & you die & ya stuffd inbetween
Whether dancing in Sanqaur sailing in Nairn
I’ve been a proud Scots lass since I was a Bairn
But if this is Scotland, then where are the maidens
& the men so proud to be free
If this is Scotland Then where is the freedom Wallace promised too me

Life, life, O what could it mean
Youre born & you die & theres stuff inbetween
Whether doon in Ardrossan or up Ullapool
I’ve been a proud Scots lass since I was at school

But if this is Scotland, then show me Highlands
Not these crmbling city jungles in decline & if this is Scotland
Then where is the kingdom the Bruce told me was rightfully mine

Life, life, o what could it mean Youre born & you die & ya stuffd inbetween
Whether doon in wee Gretna or up Aberdeen
I’ll always be scottish & proud o the gene

Whether courting in Glasgie or married in Fife
I’ll be a proud Scots lass the whole of my
Life, life’s no rehearsal in dress Ya born & ya die & ya live more or less
Whether doon in Port Seton or up Inverness
I’ll be a proud Scots lass, good night & god bless

A knock on the door

Flora
Answer that Betty

Enter Lochiel & Charlie

Lochiel
I would like to see Mrs Macdonald

Betty
You’d better come in lads

Lochiel
Mrs MacDonald

Flora
Hello lads – & who might you be

Lochiel
My name is Lochiel

Flora
& your friend

Charlie
My name is John

Lochiel
We have been travelling many days – we were told you may be… sympathetic… to a couple of weary travellers

Betty
Mrs Macdonald’s good nature is very famous through the Hebrides

Flora
Of course, gentlemen, we are all God’s children – take a seat – I have some porridge on the pot

Lochiel
That would be grand Mrs Macdonald

Flora
Please call me Flora – Betty, some porridge for the gentlemen

Betty
Here you go boys

Lochiel
Thank you

Betty
Your friend doesn’t say much

Charlie
Thank you madame

Betty
Aha, a French man – if you don’t mind me saying we don’t get many foreigners up here at the edge of the universe  – in fact the only Foreigners round here in recent times, & they were French alright, were all caught up at Culloden – were you at Culloden young man

Charlie
I was – but my name is not John – I am Charles Edward Stewart – son of James VIII, the rightful king of Scotland

Flora
My god! The prince! your highness

Betty
Bloody hell!

Flora
I am a proud Jacobite, sire – one day the Stuarts will return to the throne, mark my words

Lochiel
Long before that day we need to get the prince to Skye – a French ship is waiting for him there – can you help –

Betty
The Hebrides are crawling with redcoats – they patrol every inch of the coast

Flora
It’s going to be difficult – but hmmm… let me look at you your highness – quite tall – but I think with a spot of needlework we could make something fit – Betty, get me ome of your clothes – we are to dress the Prince up as you

Betty
You’ll have to stuff him up a little – but very well

Lochiel
The present situation makes me so angry – our rightful king forced to wear women’s clothing

Flora
Aye, theres full fifty folk & more have better claims & truer blood than that swine King George

Betty
You know there’s a £30 000 bounty on your head your highness – I’d never have to work again

Flora
Betty

Betty
I’m only jesting Mrs Macdonald

Charles
I appreciate a little humour – the past few months have been ones of constant nervous tension & & physical extremity

Betty gets a blouse & skirt

Betty
Here you are your highness

Charlie
Thank you Betty

Lochiel
Thank you so much Flora – you are a wee angel in all this darkness

Flora
I’m only doing my duty sir – now your highness, lets take a look at ya – ah you don’t make a bad lass at all

Lochiel
This could well work

Flora
Well, we wont know til we try – Betty, go & tell Rabbie we’ll be taking his boat to Skye – but not a word about our guests

Betty
Right you are Mrs Macdonald

Exit Betty

Charles
Thank you once again Flora – my father will be sure to reward you very handsomely

Flora
Just seeing you face & hearing your pretty voice is all I need, your highness


SCENE 21 – South Uist, a quayside

Rabbie is readying his boat / two British soldiers are observing

Soldier A
How the hell did he we end up here Pete

Soldier B
Its beautiful tho, innit,

Soldier A
Beautiful – since when was freezing yer bollox off beautiful

Soldier B
But look at the mountains & the sea & all that – its much better than back home

Soldier A
At least there’s women in Bradford

Soldier B
Well, of a sort

Soldier A
There’s nothing up here but hags & sheep – wait a minute, I take that back, there’s a couple of fine beauties coming right now – well, actually I don’t like yours much

Enter Flora & Charlie

Soldier A
Alright girls, what you up to

Flora
I am Flora MacDonald & this is my maid Betty, we are travelling to Skye to see relations

Soldiers look them up & down

Soldier
Your maid is one of the ugliest women I’ve ever seen

Flora
Do they not teach you dignity in England

Soldier A
I’m sorry miss – Pete apologise to the ladies

Soldier B
Sorry ma’am

Soldier A
Go on, on you go

Rabbie
This way girls

Flora & the Prince board Rabbie’s boat

Soldier A
We might as well go have a drink, eh – this one’s the only boat in the harbour – there’s nowt coming in

Soldier A
Good idea

Soldiers begin to leave

Soldier A
Wait a minute… ladies, we are on the lookout for the rebel & fugitive, Charles Edward Stewart – if you do so happen to see him we would be very much obliged if you could inform of us of ‘is whereabouts

Flora
Of course – you will be the first know

Soldier A
Good – right, happy sailing

Charlie
Good god, that was close

Flora
Just keep calm

Rabbie
Right, that’s us

The boat slips from the harbour / Enter Betty singing

SKYE BOAT SONG

Speed bonnie boat like a bird on the wing
Onward the sailors cry.
Carry the lad that’s born to be king
Over the sea to Skye

Loud the wind howls
Loud the waves roar
Thunderclaps rend the air
Baffled our foes
Stand by the shore
Follow they will not dare

Speed bonnie boat like a bird on the wing
Onward the sailors cry.
Carry the lad that’s born to be king
Over the sea to Skye

Many’s the lad fought on that day
Well the claymore did wield
When the night came
Silently lain
Dead on Colloden field

Speed, bonnie boat, like a bird on the wing,
Onward! the sailors cry;
Carry the lad that’s born to be King
Over the sea to Skye.

Burned are their homes, exile and death
Scatter the loyal men;
Yet e’er the sword cool in the sheath
Charlie will come again.

Speed, bonnie boat, like a bird on the wing,
Onward! the sailors cry;
Carry the lad that’s born to be King
Over the sea to Skye.


SCENE 22 – Loch-nan-Uamh

20th September 1946 / The Bonnie Prince is ready to be picked up by a French ship / he waits by a loch with some locals & his followers – a boat comes into sight

Murray
Sir! look, a frigate – look, tis the L’Heureux
The flag o’ France there flapping mid the sail
By heaven’s grace the time has come tae go
Frae rock tae rock traversed the tangled trail
Ushering us to safety on these waves –
Nae more camping in the open weather
Nae more forest huts & nae more caves,
Nae more hiding in the purple heather,
Nae more eating cold oatmeal with sea-shell
Sir, did ye hear the splash, an anchor fell!

Charlie
My friends, this is the end I do suppose
The end of all our dreams & this the end
Of those brave days, the end of all our woes
& all the glory that we did intend
I beg thee to be free from misery
Tho I more hardship willing to endure
If it would help you & my poor contree
I swear in Paris I shall find the cure
Forever in my heart are those that fell
Good luck my friends I bid thee all fare well…

Duncan
Gid luck tae us! aye! that man has a nerve
The gaols are full of aw oor fighting men
They hae robbed us of aw oor native verve
Sae many butchers ride fae glen to glen
Scouring the contree wi’ bitter thunder
4Razing oor homes, raping oor ain lasses
& chorin cattle… laden wi’ plunder
They harry us frae peaks tae the passes
Oor pipes outlawed, weapons seized or hidden
& e’en the tartan whit’s bin forbidden!

Lochiel
Calm yersell man, we aw gave fer the cause
& ne’er pretty when men gan to the wars
A’ saw yer laughing back at Prestonpans
A’ saw yer dancing wi’ the other clans
Och! many chiefs have sacrificed their wealth
For yon young man, but still we toast his health
His white rose on oor hearts fore’er displayed
He jeopardis’d his life, through blood did wade,
To fight oor battles, aye! that man was brave!
I gan tae watch his boat frae Cluny’s cave…

Flora McDonald
Aye! there he goes, & well I hope he flies
His sleekit boat a lucky wind to win
Us common folk bless’d tae ha’ seen his eyes
Thir are few in this world that are akin
Altho he left the land worse than he found
& half oor lot be rotting on the Thames
The rest a petty word from bein’ bound
Only a bitter few his name condemns
For while the thistle grows upon the glen
He is a Bonnie Prince among all men

D’Eguiles
The Prince exchanges British life
For one of exiled royal
& tho’ his coming caused much strife
Both highland chief & farmer’s wife
Forever shall be loyal


SCENE 23 – A Highland Coastline

Enter Angus – he recites a poem

Mourn, hapless Caledonia, mourn
Thy banish’d peace, thy laurels torn!
Thy sons, for valour long renown’d,
Lie slaughter’d on their native ground;

Thy hospitable roofs no more
Invite the stranger to the door:—
In smoky ruins sunk they lie,
The monuments of cruelty.

Thy swains are famish’d on the rocks
Where once they fed their wanton flocks:
Thy ravish’d virgins shriek in vain;
Thy infants perish on the plain.

Thy towering spirit now is broke,
Thy neck is bended to the yoke:—
What foreign arms could never quell
By civil rage and rancour fell.

The rural pipe and merry lay
No more shall cheer the happy day;
No social scenes of gay delight
Beguile the dreary winter night;

No strains but those of sorrow flow,
And nought be heard but sounds of woe,—
While the pale phantoms of the slain
Glide nightly o’er the silent plain.

Yet, when the rage of battle ceased,
The victor’s soul was not appeased;—
The naked and forlorn must feel
Devouring flames and murdering steel!

The pious mother, doom’d to death,
Forsaken wanders o’er the heath:
The bleak wind whistles round her head,
Her helpless orphans cry for bread:

Bereft of shelter, food, and friend,
She views the shades of night descend;
And, stretch’d beneath the inclement skies,
Weeps o’er her tender babes, and dies.

And, spite of her insulting foe,
My sympathising verse shall flow.
Mourn, hapless Caledonia, mourn
Thy banish’d peace, thy laurels torn!

One by one the Highlanders, dead & alive, step out onto the stage

OVER THE WATER TO CHARLIE

Come boat me over, come ferry me o’er
Come boat me over tae Charlie
Hear the call once but never again
To carry me over tae Charlie

We’ll over the water, We’ll over the sea,
We’ll over the water to Charlie!
Come weal, come woe, we’ll gather and go,
And live or die wi’ Charlie!

I swear by moon and stars sae bright
Sun that shines sae dearly
If I had twenty thousand lives
I’d lose them all for Charlie

We’ll over the water, We’ll over the sea,
We’ll over the water to Charlie!
Come weal, come woe, we’ll gather and go,
And live or die wi’ Charlie!

It’s well I lo’e me Charlie’s name
Tho some there be abhor him
But O tae see Auld Nick gaun hame
And Charlie’s face afore him

We’ll over the water, We’ll over the sea,
We’ll over the water to Charlie!
Come weal, come woe, we’ll gather and go,
And live or die wi’ Charlie!

We’ll over the water, We’ll over the sea,
We’ll over the water to Charlie!
Come weal, come woe, we’ll gather and go,
And live or die wi’ Charlie!

Fin.


THE CONCHORDIA FOLIO

“Its worth a pop, right, to knock that Shakespeare
Off his feffin’ perch!”

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Interview: Damian Beeson Bullen

 

Charlie: Scenes: 14-17

SCENE 14 – Culloden House

Charlie is discussing tactics with Lochiel – enter Murray & Duncan Maclean

Lochiel
Mah prince, ah have some grave & grievous news
The English are amassing cross the moor
& in two hours shall full assembled be
It seems the wily Duke of Cumberland
Ten times the measure of old Johnnie Cope
& drove his army hard upon our heels
We have but little time to make amends
Past choices have brought great disaster near
But thinking fast & thinking on our heels
Still may fat English confidence be slain

Charlie
The matter, then, must this day reach its head
& let our LORD this nation’s fate define
With all ye mighty, loyal men of mine
How we have marched, & fought, & how we bled
All for this single martial consequence
When I can feel the triumph in our bones
For princes have a right to sit on thrones
Ordain’d by Heaven’s prime omnipresence
How such hot things engage my appetite
How are the men who must this morning fight?

Maclean
Och! Nae so braw, mah prince, these men are tired
Murray’s night march has worn away their feet
But still to fight yer cause are full inspired
& tho they’ve barely had an oat to eat
Since Inverness, that’s twa days & a night,
They stand in yonder field like golden wheat
That when bent over swiftly stands aright
Still five thousand grand lads shall for ye stand
& none of them would shirk the coming fight
As long as ye still vocal in command

Murray
But sire, pray listen, let us prudence take
On boggy heath oor highland charge must break
We will be bees buzzing about the bears
& oor small cannon not a match for theirs
Let us remove oor army to the peaks
& wear the foe down oer the coming weeks
Upon the ground found in oor very blood
Where Wallace, Bruce & even Rob Roy stood
For if we fight this vital battle here
The price must be your father’s crown I fear

Charlie
Nonsense – nonsense – nonsense – nonsense – nonsense
I have listened to such ‘prudence’ before
By now I could be sat on England’s throne
But I was down at Derby led afool
I shall not quaff that same vile draught again
Alert the men & ready them for war
& tell them God is with their prince today
If they be with him too, now let us pray
In nomine Patris, et Filii, et
Spiritus Sancti – let faith fuel the fray

D’Eguiles
Crow clouds have gather’d oer the moor
Rain bleaches faces white
Both Hell & Heaven set in store
The fated victims of a war
Brought to its final fight


SCENE 15 – Drummossie Moor

The Highland Lines – the rain & wind drives into the faces of the Macleans

Eric
Look at that da, the English have never been so well ordered before

David
Never mind, they wont be in any kind of order once we’ve git in & at em – just look at whose gathered here today – many a braw clan & hardy warrior – chieftans, taxmen, tenants, subtenants all joined together as one beating heart – Frasers, Farquharsons, Macdonells, Grants, Mackenzies, Ogilvys, Gordons, Appins & Atholls – ah – it’s a stirring sight for a true-born highlander

The sound of Scottish cannon

Fergus
That’s our guns

Angus
The battles started lads – ready your pistols

The sound of English cannon

David
It sounds like they’ve got muckle more guns than us

Angus
Aye, look at the Macphearsons, theyre dropping like flies

David
Dinna worry lads – hold ya nerve – the Prince knows what he’s doing

Cannonball whizzes past them

Eric
Oor guns have gone silent – they dinna seem t o be working, ken

Fergus
They’re doin bloody murder to us – why don’t we charge

Angus
Chief – let us at the English bastards

Maclean
Have courage lads, for oor cause is righteous

Eric
It wont be long before those guns destroy every clansman on this field – – if we dally any longer what chance will we have

David
Aye, the boys right, lets charge em Duncan

Maclean
The Prince has not given the order yet – we stand

Cannonball rips into lines

Maclean
Come on boys, lets sing – show them we’ve still got fire in our bellies –

SCOTLAND THE BRAVE

Hark! When the night is falling
Hark! Hear the pipes are calling,
Loudly and proudly calling, down through the glen.
There where the hills are sleeping,
Now feel the blood a-leaping,
High as the spirits of the old Highland men.
Towering in gallant fame
Scotland my mountain hame,
High may your proud standards gloriously wave,
Land of my high endeavour,
Land of the shining river,
Land of my heart for ever, Scotland the brave.

Fergus is wounded by a cannoball

High in the misty Highlands,
Out by the purple islands,
Brave are the hearts that beat beneath Scottish skies.
Wild are the winds to meet you,
Staunch are the friends that greet you,
Kind as the love that shines from fair maidens’ eyes.
Far off in sunlit places,
Sad are the Scottish faces,
Yearning to feel the kiss of sweet Scottish rain.
Where tropic skies are beaming,
Love sets the heart a-dreaming,
Longing and dreaming for the homeland again.

Maclean
Look, the Appins are off – Mackintoshes are cgarging like wildcats – come on lads – I’ve had enough of this – its time to put an end to this sorry affair -with me Macleans – CHARGE!!!!


SCENE 16 – Drummossie Moor

The British Lines

Cumberland
Come see the Pretender in the distance,
His rascally & ragged rebel bands,
The Irish… & there look! the flag of France
At last those fools are fed into our hands!
From Lancaster, Carlisle & Falkirk Moor
He slipped my net, I thought him rather shrewd,
But this, a broken field of boggy moor,
All credence lacks, his choice seems rather crude,
& should, methinks, have shut up in the town…
Now ve princes contest the British crown!

Lord Bury
Most noble Duke, as I surveyed the moor
Close to those blasted pipes of shrieking skirl
Above me passed the first shots of the war…
& as you hear our answer is aswirl
Their lines harangued by wind & hail & sleet
With cannonballs theirs is a sorry lot
& hastening th’onset of their defeat
We rain upon them thick shards of grape shot
But wait! what is that roar? at last they charge!
Our guns shall seek the measure of their targe!

Wolfe
Sir, now your men in mortal combat meet,
All is confusion, noise, concern & heat
On the left the thickest of the fighting
Barrel’s brave boys on their broadswords biting
But of this day the king will never fret
Those heathen fall beneath infernal fire
Or spitted on an English bayonet
& on the right their charge shows no desire
Strict discipline & guts rip thro that shield
This godless place becomes their killing field

Cumberland
Orpheus to my ears! the fleeing shout
& come to a decision the matter
Tis strange to see the nation’s bravest rout
Those boasted broadswords not as they flatter
Not since Lord Noll had they such a thrashing
Let Lord Ancram pursue them with the horse
Hold no quarter, slaughter, sabres slashing
& extirpate that race as fighting force
Destroy clannism, burn their homes & grain
So these wretches shall never rise again!

Wolfe
Great tidings sir, when London hears the news
The oldest wines shall happily be drunk
The Bonnie Prince & all his bonnet blues
Into the freezing Moray Firth hath sunk
The flower of the highlander lies strewn
Upon this ghastly field & down the roads
Shall ride many a merciless dragoon
All to the weeping streets of Inverness
So far we have counted a thousand swords
Now raise a cry for Britain & God bless

D’Eguile
The crucial battle has been fought
The tartan torn & strewn
The fleeing rats so easy caught
& VENGEANCE shall cut Celtic throat
Beneath a weeping moon


SCENE 17 – Drummossie Moor

The Highland army is routing / Angus supports a wounded Eric across the field near to a wounded Fergus / the Bonnie Prince urging men to fight / Lochiel & Murray by him

Lochiel
The battle is lost sire

Charlie
Nonsense – where is everybody going, the battle may still be won, do your dare desert your Prince

Fergus
Angus, Angus, help me

Angus
Sorry, lad, my hands are full here wi mi grandson – you’re on your own boy

Fergus
Tell Rosie that I love her, will ya, & look after oor bairn

Charlie
Old man, put that fellow down, turn round & get back to the battle

Angus
Sod ya battle

Angus & Eric leave the field

Lochiel
You see, all is going to pot, you can be of no great succour, before so general a route which shall soon be – seize upon this opportunity, sire, & carry yourself away

Charlie
Very well – I shall see you all at Ruthven

Exit Charlie

Murray
Aye, run, ye cowardly Italian

Lochiel
I think we’d better go too, Lochiel, The Irish & the French are still holding their ground – they will buy us time to escape this place of death

Murray
Aye – it is an end to a bad affair – we must regroup at Ruthven – go swiftly & safely brother

Lochiel
Aye – & you, good luck, Ruthven is 40 miles, take the back roads by Cawdor Castle – I will see you at the barracks

Exit Lochiel & Murray / enter Rosie – she sees Fergus

Rosie
Fergus – och my boy, my love
{Fergus tries to speak, but coughs up blood}
No – don’t speak darling – let me see your wound

Rosie opens his shirt, the wound is massive / she turns away in disgust, then begins to sing

YE JACOBITES

Rosie
Ye Jacobites by name, lend an ear, lend an ear,
Ye Jacobites by name, lend an ear,
Ye Jacobites by name,
Your faults I will proclaim,
Your doctrines I must blame, you shall hear.

What is Right, and What is Wrang, by the law, by the law?
What is Right and what is Wrang by the law?
What is Right, and what is Wrang?
A short sword, and a lang,
A weak arm and a strang, for to draw.

What makes heroic strife, famed afar, famed afar?
What makes heroic strife famed afar?
What makes heroic strife?
To whet th’ assassin’s knife,
Or haunt a Parent’s life, wi’ bluidy war?

Then let your schemes alone, in the state, in the state,
Then let your schemes alone in the state.
Then let your schemes alone,
Adore the rising sun,
And leave a man alone, to his fate.

Enter British soldiers

Soldier One
Stop your damned singing woman

Soldier Two pushes her to one side & bayonets Fergus

Soldier Two
So you are pregnant are you, well, we certainly don’t want any babies with a claymore crying revenge now, do we

Soldier Two bayonets Rosie slowly in her belly – exit soldiers


THE CONCHORDIA FOLIO

“Its worth a pop, right, to knock that Shakespeare
Off his feffin’ perch!”

35062508_10156430365647520_5136386788406853632_n.jpg

Interview: Damian Beeson Bullen

Charlie: Scenes 9-13

SCENE 9 – London – King George II is sat on his throne reading the newspapers with his chancellor / enter Thomas Arne with three singers; Mrs. Cibber, Beard and Reinhold

Thomas
Your majesty

George
Mr Arne, a pleasure to see you once more

Thomas
The pleasure is all mine your majesty – I have finished the song & wish it to be sung in your presence

George II
Hmm, the ditty about me? Very well, sing it

Thomas
Your highness, may I present Mrs. Beard, Reinhold & mny sister Mrs Cibber

Cibber, Beard and Reinhold
Your highness

Thomas
Ladies… on the count of three.. one, two…

Cibber, Beard and Reinhold
God bless our Noble King,
God Save great George our King
God save the King:
Send him victorious,
Happy and glorious,
Long to reign over us:
God save the king.

O Lord, our God, arise,
Scatter thine enemies
And make them fall
Confound their politics,
Frustrate their knavish tricks,
On thee our hopes we fix:
God save us all.

From every latent foe
From the assassins blow
God save the King
O’er her thine arm extend
For Britain’s sake defend
Our mother, prince, and friend
God save the King

Lord grant that Marshal Wade
May by thy mighty aid
Victory bring
May he sedition hush
And like a torrent rush
Rebellious Scots to crush
God save the King

George
Yes, very good, excellent even

Thomas
I am delighted his majesty likes it.

George
It sounds familiar somewhat

Thomas
It is an old tune, your highness, my mother says she heard it sung in the street when the Prince of Orange was hovering over the coast. There is a received opinion that it was written and composed for the Catholic Chapel of James II. I have merely adapted it for a better, more deserving, more godsent king.

Chancellor
Since the descent of the demon Stuart wolfchild on our islands, demonstrations of loyalty to the reigning house are in especial demand.

Thomas
Yes sire, all of London are in total abhorrence to the arbitrary schemes of our invidious enemies. I have written this song to coalesce their passions with an anthemic chorus. The song shall be having its debut tonight, sire. The entire male cast of the Drury Lane theatre announced shall be announcing their intention of forming a special unit of the Volunteer Defence Force. They will be giving a performance of Jonson’s The Alchemist, at which conclusion Mrs Cibber, Beard and Reinhold will be singing my new song.

Chancellor
The stage is the most loyal place in the three kingdoms, your majesty

Enter the Duke of Cumberland

Cumberland
The soldiers of your army would dispute that very much – what is more loyal than to die for your king

George II
William Augustus, how are you my boy

Cumberland
In excellent health & spirits father, & you

George
I have read the dispatches – the news is dire – that dreadful band of savages – freely allowed to roam across our sovereign soil – unchallenged! They have already taken Carlisle, & are now on their way into Lancashire – There has been a run on the Bank of England, both man & merchant fleeing to France – I am in half a mind to join them

Chancellor
Thanks to the rebellion, your majesties, all trade & business in the country are at quite a standstill

cumber2.png

The Duke of Cumberland

Cumberland
These disturbers of his majesty’s reign will not be in England long. The Highland race dwells within a nest of fickle constraint. Obstinate & proud its army shall boast its way to London, then at the first push of bayonet slink back to the mists from whence they came

George II
Son, you are too confident – those howling barbarians the terrify the troops – look what happened at Prestonpans

Cumberland
Father, my king, if I am allowed to marshal your armies then I shall bring a speedy & resolute end to this bloody affair

George II
Perhaps I shall marshal them myself

Cumberland
With all due respect father, this is not Flanders, nor is it Dettingen; these are not the cowardly French – these are Highlanders, merciless murderers & the devil’s own – if you are caught you shall be flayed alive & hung from every mercat cross in Scotland – let me fight this war for you father, for after all, if Charles Edward represents his own father on the field of battle – it is up to I to represent your sacred self

George II
Very well – the commission is yours – I shall pay you an extra 5,000 pounds a year – but tell me, how do you intend to challenge that terrifying Highland charge of theirs

Cumberland
I have given the matter my best – let me demonstrate – stand here father, now, you there, slowly charge at us with your right arm held high

Thomas
Me?

George II
Yes, you Mr Arne, do as my son says

Thomas
Like this?

Cumberland
That’s right, now charge the king, slowly

Thomas
The king?

George
Mr Arne!

Thomas
Sorry your majesty, of course…

Thomas slowly charges the king

Cumberland
The bayonet is no match for a claymore – but they have a weakness – here…
{Cumberland stabs underarm of Arne}
This is their Achilles heel, well Achilles armpit, a fleshy weak spot – If the army is well drilled enough to attack the man, not facing, but to his right, then we can nullify the highlanders

George
Brilliant – have the army instructed at once

Cumberland
It is already being drilled

George
My boy, we cannot show that damned snivelling species any mercy – none whatsoever. If Britain is ever to become great they must be extirpated from this island – we must succeed where the Romans & Longshanks failed – there wont be peace unless this entire island is subjugated – let commence the crusade for civilisation

Cumberland
God willing, it will be, I shall attend to it at once

Exit Cumberland

George II
Ah, Mr Arne, do your ladies know your other patriotic number, the one about not become slaves, or something

Arne
We have prepeared it, your majesty, just in case

George II
Yes do sing it, I like it very much

Thomas
Ladies… on the count of three.. one, two…

Cibber, Beard and Reinhold
Rule, Britannia! Britannia, rule the waves!
Britons never, never, never shall be slaves.
Rule, Britannia! Britannia, rule the waves!
Britons never, never, never shall be slaves.


Scene 10 – Exeter House, Derby / the Prince has gathered his commanders for a council of war

Charlie
My cabinet, this is the vital hour
Carlisle has fallen, Lancashire is won
The bridge at Shakestone firmly in our power
The road lies open for to seize London
When English Jacobites shall surely rise
& with them all the gallantry of France
& crowns shall be reclaim’d, let’s grasp the prize
If we continue with our bold advance
We could be in Whitehall within the week
Come gentlemen, gather thy thoughts & speak

Lochiel
Ah would say march, your presence in this land
Has sparked a widespread panic rarely seen
If hardy Northern folk wo’ make a stand
The chances of the South standing seem lean
Friends o’ the King were the first dugs to flee
Spreading terror tae London’s grave concern
Whose banks are being emptied o’ money
Then whit will buy the bread their soldiers earn
While royal armies in their meagre league
Outmaneuvered & saddled wi’ fatigue.

Murray
My sacred liege, ye are the cavalier
& with advancing I cannot agree
At any point the redcoats may appear
We court romance or court reality
Cumberland is at Stone, not long delayed
Bradstreet says nine thousand at Northampton
Between us & the North their tarries Wade
& thirty thousand clog Finchley Common,
With winter coming in, the future blurr’d
Of yer promised Frenchmen there is no word…

Maclean
My liege, a’ speak for all the loyal clans
Warriors ready to gi ye their lives
It has been many moons since Prestonpans
They’d rather pass the winter wi’ their wives
No wi’ the English & their crude weather
Gi’ us the crystal lochs & thistle wylde
The meadows, the moorlands & the heather
Oor hearts are wi’ the glens, there let us war
Wi’ all those royal clansmen brutes reviled
Settle auld scores & Scotland overawe

Charlie
These words you bare are arrows to my heart
Why would ye want to waive the victory
If things shall not be finished, then why start
There seems some base betrayal close to me
But very well, tell my heroic men
Being unsure when Louis will invade
Let us retreat upon the sad morrow
When I hope this ardour shall never fade
For we may never come this way again
& this day be our eternal sorrow

D’Eguiles
Upon the march to London town
The Prince beset by spies
His Highlanders have let him down
He turns back north with weary frown
Hiding his teary eyes


Scene 10 – Northern England

The Highland army is marching back to Scotland

THE BONNY BANKS OF LOCH LOMOND

By yon bonnie banks and by yon bonny braes
Where the sun shines bright on Loch Lomond
For me and my true love will never meet again
On the bonny bonny banks of Loch Lomond

For ye’ll take the high road
And I’ll take the low road
And I’ll be in Scotland afore ye
For me and my true love will never meet again
On the bonny bonny banks of Loch Lomond

Twas there that we parted in yon shady glen
On the steep, steep side o’ Ben Lomon’
Where in purple hue the Hieland hills we view
An’ the moon comin’ out in the gloaming

The wee birdies sing and the wild flow’rs spring
And in sunshine the waters are sleepin’;
But the broken heart it kens nae second spring
Tho’ the waefu’ may cease frae their greetin’

For ye’ll take the high road
And I’ll take the low road
And I’ll be in Scotland afore ye
For me and my true love will never meet again
On the bonny bonny banks of Loch Lomond

For me and my true love will never meet again
On the bonny bonny banks of Loch Lomond


Scene 11 – The Maclean village

Morag & a pregnant Rosie are at work waulking & fulling cloth

Rosie
I tell you ma, the boys have it right easy, while they’re off seeing the world, getting up to god knows what, we’re left here doing twice the work – & me in my state

Morag
Get used to it lassie – you know, I’ve come to think that the reason the boys have their little feuds & rush off to war at the drop off a kilt, is just to get out of doing an honest days work on the crofts

Rosie
As if they do anyway

Enter Fergus

Fergus
That’s a little harsh don’t you think

Rosie
Fergus – my love – what are you doing here

Fergus
I thought I’d slip away to see ma wee sweetheart – I’m sick of war now anyway, all I want to do is hold you in my arms

Rosie
Ah Fergus, come here, I missed ya

They embrace

Morag
Its grand to see you, lad, how ya keeping

Fergus
Och I’m fine, a bit worn oot from trekking up & down the whole island, but I’m in good fettle

Rosie
Have you not noticed anything different about me Fergus

Fergus
Well, I didna wanna say, but you have filled out a wee bit like

Rosie
A wee bit!! I’m six months pregnant lad

Fergus
You are – am I –

Rosie
We’re gonna have a bairn

Fergus
My dear Rosie -you’ve made me the happiest man alive

Morag
& I the happiest woman – my first grandchild – so Fergus how are my boys

Fergus
Fine, fine, not a scratch – the last time I was with the army they were besieging Stirling- but its no way to wage a war that – Falkirk was fine – an open field & an open foe – but attacking castles – its not the Highland way – believe me, I’m not the only one to leave the lines in the middle of the night

Rosie
We’ve been worried – the rebellion seems to be slowing down, tae be coming back north day-by-day

Fergus
Aye – there’s gonna be a bloody reckoning & soon – the Prince is determined on it – his dynasty died at Derby I reckon – the lads have already started calling that damned day black Friday – I wasnae that bothered myself, I dinna wanna die for some perfumed French prince – especially when the most beautiful girl in the world was waiting for me back hame

Morag
That beautiful girl’s father wouldn’t appreciate that kind of talk Fergus – he’d think you were a coward

Fergus
Ah, bollox to princes & kings, Morag – I just want to do what’s right – Rosemary will ya marry me my darlin

Rosie
Of course I will Fergus Maclean

Morag
Aw you two love birds… let me go & cook you up a feast lad, you must be awfa hungry after that hike

Fergus
Aye that I am, I’ve only had a couple of biscuits in the past few days

Morag
Well it looks like I’ll have to kill us a chicken

Exit Morag

Rosie
I’m so glad to have you back darlin, its been too quiet without the lads around

Fergus
Ah you too Rosie – I saw no lass fairer than you in the whole of Scotland, & England to for that matter – you were always in my thoughts, morning noon & night – I’ve written a song on the way hame

Rosie
Have you

Fergus
Aye, well I worked oot that its 500 miles to derby – & 500 miles back – that’s a thoosand miles by ma reckoning – & every step of the way I was singing for you

500 MILES

When I wake up yeah I know I’m gonna be
I’m gonna be the man who wakes up next to you
When I go out yeah I know I’m gonna be
I’m gonna be the man who goes along with you
If I get drunk yes I know I’m gonna be
I’m gonna be the man who gets drunk next to you
And if I haver yeah I know I’m gonna be
I’m gonna be the man who’s havering to you

But I would walk 500 miles
And I would walk 500 more
Just to be the man who walked 1000 miles
To fall down at your door

When I’m working yes I know I’m gonna be
I’m gonna be the man who’s working hard for you
And when the money comes in for the work I’ll do
I’ll pass almost every penny on to you

When I come home yeah I know I’m gonna be
I’m gonna be the man who comes back home to you
And if I grow old well I know I’m gonna be
I’m gonna be the man who’s growing old with you

But I would walk 500 miles
And I would walk 500 more
Just to be the man who walked 1000 miles
To fall down at your door

When I’m lonely yes I know I’m gonna be
I’m gonna be the man whose lonely without you
When I’m dreaming yes I know I’m gonna dream
Dream about the time when I’m with you.

Enter Morag

Morag
Quick, Duncan’s coming

Rosie
O hide Fergus

Fergus
I’m nae gonna hide fae no-one

Enter Duncan

Duncan
So Fergus, you decided to take a wee holiday did ya

Fergus
What if I did – I’ve done my bit – Ive fought at Prestonpans & Falkirk – I’ve walk’d a thoosand miles risking ma life fae your prince

Duncan
Oor Prince

Fergus
Im not interested in princes, me – just my cattle, my soon-to-be wife, & oor new baby

Duncan
Look lad, don’t try ma patience – while I’m ya chief, ye’ll do as ya told – as long as you rent my land, you’re mine boy,

Fergus
No more war, sir, I cannot face it again

Duncan
Look, Fergus, we need every man doon Inverness, – while you are a Maclean you will do as you are told – if you don’t come, I’ll take all your cattle – & set fire to your rooves & wee Rosie’s as well –

Fergus
Ah thats not fair

Duncan
Its the Highland way

Fergus
Alright, I’ll come

Duncan
Good,you can help me round up the rest of deserters, starting with old Archibald & his sons

Fergus
See you when I’m back Rosie… I love you

Exit Duncan & Fergus

Morag
He’ll be fine love – hes a braw lad that one

Rosie
I’m following him mother- I have tae

Morag
You’re in no condition lass

Rosie
I’ve got to – I maight never see him again – I have to stick to him as a limpet clings to a sea-rock

Morag
Alright lass, but be careful, a bloodthirsty enemy pays no heed to sex or age

Rosie
I’ll be as cunning as a fox, mother, don’t you worry

Exit Rosie

Morag
Och, so I’ve just killed a chicken for nothing

————-

Scene 12 – The Macleans are marching through Scotland

MARCHING ON WITH CHARLIE

I’m marching on with Charlie
I’m marching far from home
& when I march wi Charlie
A never march alone
I got my chieftan stood beside me
& in that man I trust
I’ll always be a highlander
Until I’m turned to dust

We’re marching on with Charlie
We’re marching far from home
& when we march wi Charlie
We never march alone
I got my chieftan stood beside me
& in that man we trust
I’ll always be a highlander
Until I’m turned to dust

I am marching on, marching,
Marching on with Charlie Boy

I’m marching on wi Charlie
Im marching fight to fight
& when I march wi Charlie
I’ll always march wi might
Got my brothers stood beside me
As solid as the stones
I’ll always be a highlander
Until Im turned to bones

We’re marching on wi Charlie
We’re marching fight to fight
& when we march wi Charlie
We’ll always march wi might
Got my brothers stood beside me
& in that man we trust
I’ll always be a highlander
Until I’m turned to dust

I’m marching on wi Charlie
Up by the Moray Shore
I’m marchin on wi Charlie
Down to Drumossie Moor
I’ll find an English redcoat
& slice a bloody spray
I’ll always be a highlander
Until my dying day

Marching on, marching on,
Marching on with Charlie Boy


THE CONCHORDIA FOLIO

“Its worth a pop, right, to try & knock
Shakespeare off his feffin’ perch!”

 

35062508_10156430365647520_5136386788406853632_n.jpg

Interview: Damian Beeson Bullen

Charlie: Scenes 5-8

Scene 5 : Edinburgh Cross

A crowd is anticipating the arrival of the Bonnie Prince. Two milkmaids, Jennie & Mary, are among them. Enter Annie, a third milkmaid.

Annie
Girls! The highland army has entered the city gates – their blue bonnets are bobbin up & down the Royal Mile like the waves on the windy Forth

Jenny
We should hide oorsells, I’ve heard tales of what that randy bunch of sex-starved maniacs get up to

Mary
I dinnae ken – I wouldn’t mind a bit of a highland fling, myself

Annie
Never mind the Highlanders, they’re but smelly bullocks the lot of em, but I’ve heard the Prince looks like an angel

Jenny
Good god, you’re right, here he comes now

Mary
He’s absolutely gorgeous

Jenny
Aye, look at his graceful mein & manly locks!

Annie
Hands off girls – I saw him first

Enter the Prince, Murray & Lochiel, with various other elements of the army

Murray
Welcome to Edinburgh, sir

Charlie
A most beautiful city – it reminds me somewhat of Firenze

Jenny
Oh my days – he sounds so sexy with that foreign accent

CHARLIE IS MY DARLIN’

Am Dm Am, Am F E am
E Am E Am, F C Dm Am E

Charlie he’s my darling,
my darling, my darling,
Charlie he’s my darling,
the young Chevalier.

Twas on a Monday mornin
Right early in the year
When Charlie came to our town
The Young Chevalier.

An’ Charlie he’s my darling,
my darling, my darling,
Charlie he’s my darling,
the young Chevalier.

As he cam’ marchin’ up the street
The city for to view
Right there he spied a bonnie lass
As she towards him drew

An’ Charlie he’s my darling,
my darling, my darling,
Charlie he’s my darling,
the young Chevalier.

Jenny sits on his knee

He set his Jenny on his knee,
All in his Highland dress;
For brawlie weel he ken’d the way
To please a bonny lass.

An’ Charlie he’s my darling,
my darling, my darling,
Charlie he’s my darling,
the young Chevalier.

Lochiel
You two girls, the Prince & his army will be needing milk, & lots of it – now get to work, & you will be suitably rewarded

Annie
But Jenny’s a milkmaid too, she should help

Charlie
Im afraid she will be attending to some personal business of mine

Murray
Now off with ya ya trollops, get to work

Mary & Annie
It’s upon yon heathery mountain,
And down yon scroggy glen,
We daur na gang a milking,
For Charlie and his men.

An’ Charlie he’s my darling, my darling, my darling,
Charlie he’s my darling, the young Chevalier.


Scene 6 – It is night, near Tranent

The Macleans are gather’d on the night before the Battle of Prestonpans

David
So son, are ye ready for yer first battle

Eric
Aye da – ah reckon so

David
Dinnae worry lad – Ive fought in five battles – & Ill be alive for five more

Angus
Stick with us & you’ll do no wrong Eric

Fergus
Dae ye have any advice Angus

Angus
All you need to do is shout like the devil & run like the wind

David
Then spill as much English blood as your god allows –

Angus
Aye, & dinnae let the sound of gunfire make your flesh cautious lads

Eric
What should I do when I’m face-to-face with a redcoat

David
Well boy – you look him straight in the eyeball… Then you kick him in the nuts & cut out his guts as he’s dropping – trust me, he wont be getting back up

Angus
Hey lads, have you seen my scars

Eric
Yes granda, aboot a thousand times

Angus
This one here’s the best – hand to hand combat with a seven foot English bastard – if he’d cut me just half an inch to the left he’d have had my heart oot

Fergus
What was your first battle like, Angus?

Angus
I remember it like it was yesterday – when I was barely a wee laddie I found myself marching with the redoubtable Dundee – doon at the pass of Killiecrankie – I fought under Lord George Murray on the very same field as Rob Roy McGregor & his mad rascals

Eric
I’m so excited for my first, I cannae wait

Angus
Ah, but grandson, war’s no pretty thing, I saw a lot of good lads die on those bloody slopes – let me sing you a song

THE BRAES OF KILLIEKRANKIE

An’ ye had been where I hae been
Ye wadna been sae cantie-o
An’ ye had seen what I hae seen
On the braes o’ Killiecrankie-o

I fought at land, I fought at sea
At hame I fought my auntie-o
But I met the Devil and Dundee
On the braes o’ Killiecrankie-o

The bauld pitcur fell in a furr
And Clavers gat a clankie-o
Or I had fed an Athol gled
On the braes o’ Killiecrankie-o

It’s nae shame, it’s nae shame
It’s nae shame to shank ye-o
There’s sour slaes on Athol braes
And the de’ils at Killiecrankie-o

An’ ye had been where I hae been
Ye wadna been sae cantie-o
An’ ye had seen what I hae seen
On the braes o’ Killiecrankie-o

Enter Maclean

Maclean
Boys, listen hear, you can save yer singing til after the battle – Lord Murray says we’ll be off at four in the morning – that’s two hours before dawn – apparently he’s found a track through the marshes so we’ll be coming right behind Jonnie Cope & his boys – they won’t stand a chance, that’s if you boys are up for it

David
You can count on us Duncan

Maclean
Good lads – I’ll see you all at four

David
You heard the chief, wed be better get some sleep boys, we’ll want tae have all us energy for the charge – good night to you all

All
Night

Fergus
Ah bollox! Has anyone got a spare blanket… Eric budge up pal – Let me share yours

Eric
Get off

Fergus
Go on…


Scene 7 – 21st September 1745, fields south of Prestonpans

The Bonnie Prince, Murray, Lochiel, Maclean & other chiefs are in counsel before the Battle of Prestonpans

Murray
Gorgeous morning yer highness, Prince of Wales
A wonderful manoeuvre come to pass
As the English sat at their stakes like snails
Yer army made its way thro the morass
Tracked thro the marshes, measuring their stealth
& now rest hard upon his other flank,
But not for long! the boys did toast yer health
& for this, Grace of God, did duly thank
Those men who eat dry crust & lie on straw
Shall fecht like kings, now watch them charge to war!

Charlie
Good work Lord Murray, now take up the right
A cannonball shall signal the attack
& now sir Jonathan your men must fight
Not slip away as at Corrieyairack
That cuckold marched two thirds of the kingdom
Not one chieftan has proffered him his sword
Let us announce the end of that empire
Ye gentlemen, ye warriors, now come
Join me in solemnity to our lord
‘Gloria Angele Dei!’ now men, fire!

After an exchange of artillery the Highland army embarks on its charge

Maclean
See how they gan! & what a gory sound
The highland roar, as if the Earth did quake
With furious groan, come see their cannons pound
Brave Camerons, line gis an awfa’ shake
But on they run! & wi’ a mighty crack
Oor muskets reap those eves o’ redcoat corn
& now they rush intae the killing ground,
By broadsword & scyth’d pitchfork limbs be torn
Carrying great slaughter to the English
To be in England, aye, their dying wish!

Lochiel
Sweet salutations sire, yer battles won
Peer thro the smoke & see those fleeing shapes
An entire English army on the run
Lord Percy shall see none of them escapes
The ghoul of Hanover must bare defeat
The field is littered with his bastard dead
Back to Berwick flies Jonnie Cope’s retreat
Wi’ not one of ‘is bayonets stain’d red
Tae praise this day there is nae better word
Tis Victory! God bless King James the Third

Charlie
Ours is the day, the field, the glory
Go spread its fame – fly north, south, east & west
Fly to Vienna, London & Paris,
Fly to Ferrol, Ostend, Dunkerque & Brest
& let us war! But ‘fore the march we sound
Carry the wounded to a better bed
At Holyrood let casks of wine be found
To toast our heroes & libate the dead
The motions of destiny are at hand,
Come tomorrow let us invade England

D’Eguiles
The Bonnie Prince has won the fray
Beside the fair Forth sands
The Highland army in his pay
Has never known a better day
Their fates are in his hands


Scene 8 : Tranent

The Macleans are gather’d after the battle

Angus
So Fergus, how did you find your first battle

Fergus
Aye, it was geat – I loved to see the English scattered like sheep

Angus
Aye, bottle-necked feartie-cats the lot of them

Eric
Here comes the chief

David & Duncan arrive with a barrel of Brandy & a bag of cups

David
Lads, the Prince has order’d casks of brandy to be opened to drink the king, his father’s health – each clan gets twa

Angus
Great stuff, I love a drop of the old French nectar

David
{Handing out the glasses}
Here you go lads

Duncan
To the King over the water

All
The King over the water

David
So lads, the chief’s got a few words to say

Duncan
Aye I do – a magnificent effort today lads, but its only the beginning – one battle does not make a war – grand estate or humble cottage, we clansmen of the north, we poet-patriots, have sworn to help the Prince in this enterprise wherever it may go – we will be inexcusable before god & man if we do not do all in their power to assist & support our undertaking, even into England if the Prince wills it – so ,enjoy tonight, you deserve it, & I’m sure there’ll many more nights like these as we march with Charlie

David
Well said, Duncan

Everybody
Aye

Angus
Let us shake hands with ruin & stare death in the eye, for the esteemed cause of King & Country

Fergus
Has somebody got a fiddle, lets get this party started!

HEY JOHNNIE COPE

The drums of war were sounding far,
When Johnnie Cope cam tae Dunbar,
When Johnnie Cope cam tae Dunbar,
Upon a misty Morning

Cope Sent a a Message tae Dunbar
Said; ‘Charlie meet me if you daur,
‘And I’ll learn you the arts of war,
‘If you’ll meet me in the morning’

Chorus:
Hey Johnnie Cope are you wauking yet,
Or are your drums a- beating yet?
If you were wauking I would wait,
Tae gang tae The Coals in the morning

When Charlie looked this letter upon,
He drew his sword the scabbard from,
Come follow me my merry men,
And we’ll meet Johnnie Cope in the morning.

When Johnnie Cope he heard o’ this,
He thought it wouldna be amiss,
To hae a horse in readiness,
To flee awa’ inthe morning.

Fye now Johnnie, get up and run,
The Highland bagpipes mak a din,
It’s better tae sleep in a hale skin.
For ’twill be a bloody morning.

When Johnnie Cope tae Dunbar came,
They spiered at him, ‘where’s a’ your men?’
‘The Deil confound me gin I ken,
For I left them a this morning.’

Now Jonnie troth, ye were na blate,
Tae come wi’ news o’ your ain defeat,
And leave your men in sic a straight
So early in the morning.

‘Faith’, quo Johnnie, ‘I had sic fegs,
Wi’ their claymores and their philabegs,
If I face them again Deil brak ma legs,
So I wish you a’ good morning.’


THE CONCHORDIA FOLIO

“Its worth a pop, right, to try & knock that Shakespeare
Off his feffin’ perch!”

 

35062508_10156430365647520_5136386788406853632_n.jpg

Interview: Damian Beeson Bullen

Charlie: Scenes 1-4

****

Scene 1: The Palace of Versaille

King Louis XV is sat in state, attended by his ministers. Enter the Marshall D’Eguiles with the Young Pretender, Charles Edward Stuart

D’Eguiles
I offer thee, your regal majesty,
Charles Edward Stuart, son of Scottish James
By his mother, pretty Clementina,
Reer’d mid the Muti Palace of fair Rome
The chosen child of Bourbon destiny
The hearts of half of Europe are in flames
Eager for his sword to start the battle
Well versed in war at the siege of Gaeta,
Expert with sword, master of the saddle
He rides to reclaim his ancestral home.

Charlie
Your majesty! We share a crucial bond
The Bourbon blood flows nobly thro’ my veins
For Catholic kings rule men, that fact is fair,
But now it is a Protestant that reigns
My legal birthright, L’Ecosse Ancienne
With her the rest of regal Albion
Where north to south command I loyal men
We sacred Stuarts ready to restore –
With me Paris speaks a peace with London
Tis now or never for to go to war.

Louis XV
Greetings, Dauphin, fond welcome here in France,
Thy sojurn shall run well at my expense
& furnished with suitable elegance,
Good tidings my little mercurial
The time has come to seek the recompense
For since we won the field of Fontenoy
The British lodged in Flanders to a man
Barely a musket elsewhere to employ
& so, young prince, you may have your battle
What are the rudiments kept by thy plan?

Charlie
I am ready, your highness, & god bless!
Ready to don my native highland dress
Protecting all honour & happiness
& die at their head, not live in exile
& play a role that’s worthy of my birth
To lay three crowns before my father’s feet
& all those who opposed him grant pardon –
Remember Otterburn & Bannockburn!
With broadswords & muskets my mighty share
I take my leave, adeui, I must prepare.

Exit the Bonnie Prince

Louis XV
Oui – there he flies, a charismatic bird,
The British expedition is begun
Let all his naval duties be deferred
Bedeck his galleons with heavy gun
& we shall send a storm across the seas
Thus… move an army to the Northern coast –
Ravishers of the Anglo-Saxon host!
Our enemy shall soon be on his knees
O seventeen hundred & forty-five
Mon Deiu! These days dashing days to be alive!

D’Eguiles
My name is the Marquis D’Eguiles
An agent of the crown
The Prince has gain’d the royal seal
His sparkling eyes & all their zeal
I follow out of town


Scene 2 : A Highland Bothy

Three generations of highland men – Angus, David, Eric – with David’s wife, Morag & their daughter, Rosie, are gathered for an evenings music & play

Eric
So you think its true father, what they’re saying down in Inverness

David
I don’t know lad, there’s been many a rumour before, its been a long time since the first Pretender came to Scotland – thirty years by my reckoning

Angus
& what a proper collieshangle that was, eh David, a real mess

David
Aye, father

Rosemary
Grandpa – I love those tales of yours from the great rebellion – wont you tell us one of yer poems

David
Aye, the one about the battle of Sherrifmuir – it is one of my favourites

Angus
I cannae remember ithat

Eric
Go on Grandpa

David
He remembers it alright. I think he might need a little… inspiration – Morag, fill his glass my love

Morag
Here you are Sir Poet

Angus
Thanks lass, ah… its all coming back the noo…
There’s some say that we won
& some say that they won
& some say that none won at a,’ man
But of one thing I’m sure
That at Sheriffmuir,
A battle there was that I saw, man
& we ran, & they ran:
& they ran, & we ran;
But we ran & they ran awa,’ man!

Enter Fergus

Fergus
I love that poem

Eric
Fergus

Fergus & Eric embrace

Morag
Hello, Fergus lad, welcome

David
Have you been with the cattle

Fergus
I’ve been a-herding all day

David
You’ll be thirsty then, do you want a drink

Fergus
Aye, thattle be bonnie

Angus
Get the man a glass Morag – Fergus, good to see ya – come & sit doon here lad, next to my Rosemary – she’s taken quite a shine to yer y’know

Rosie
Grandpa!

Eric
Its true, you’re all she goes on about – look she’s gone bright red

Fergus
Och, shes even bonnier when she’s blushing – so Rosie, do you want to take a wee stroll later, maybe, around the loch

Rosie
Aye, I’d love to

Fergus
Have you heard the news, by the way

David
Of course, but what do you know

Fergus
Well… old Tam says his wife’s sister’s brother was talking to a man who’s ain brother was waiting on a ship doon at Ullapool

Angus
Aye

Fergus
That ship was ready to meet the prince at sea

Morag
Charles Edward Stewart, such a bonnie name

Angus
He’s coming alright, I can feel it in my bones – they always start throbbing before a battle

Eric
Duncan’s sure to pin his badge to the Prince’s chest

David
Would you fight with the Macleans again father

Angus
Of course – I’ve only just turned sixty – I feel as fit a fiddle lad – besides, he’s our rightful prince, remember that – my father died fighting for the Pretender back in the ’15 – If my da was brave enough to fight for what he believed in, what we believd in, then so should I be

David
Aye, & me ‘n’ all father

Eric
I’ll be there, by your side, giving faithful service to the Prince

David
Good lad – there were three generations of us at Sherrifmuir too – your grandpappy would be proud to hear such talk

Morag
Aye, god keep his soul – boys, let me fill your glasses, we can make a toast – to the King over the water

All
the King over the water

David
& his fine lad, Charlie

All
To Charlie

COME O’ER THE STREAM CHARLIE

Come o’er the stream, Charlie
Dear Charlie, brave Charlie
Come o’er the stream, Charlie
And dine with MacLean
And though you be weary
We’ll mak’ your heart cheery
And welcome our Charlie
And his loyal train
We’ll bring down the track deer,
we’ll bring down the black steer
The lamb from the breckan and doe from the glen
The salt sea we’ll harry and bring to our Charlie
The cream from the bothy, and curd from the pen

And you shall drink freely the dews of Glen-Sheerly
That stream in the starlight when kings dinna ken
And deep be your meed of the wine the grapes bleed
To drink to your sire, and his friend Maclean
Our heath-bells shall trace you
the maids to embrace you
And deck your blue bonnet wi’ flowers of the brae
And the loveliest Mari in all Glen-M’Quarry
Shall lie in your bosom till break of the day

If aught will invite you or more will delight you
‘Tis ready a troop of our bold Highlandmen
Shall range on the heather with bonnet and feather
Strong arms and broad claymores, three hundred & ten


SCENE 3: Glenfinnan

The Bonnie Prince & his entourage are recently landed from France / a number of highland chiefs await him, including Lochiel & Maclean

Charlie
Men of the Highlands & the Western Isles
Behold your right & proper royal heir
Who since the shame of sick king Billy’s guiles
We Stuarts usurped from their regal share
My father’s father fought before the Boyne
At Sherrifmuir my father’s shafts did fly
When truth & justice was the only coin
& mettle tested by a clansman’s might
Amidst these misty mountains towered high
I raise my standard for the Jacobite

Maclean
Ma prince, ye are as bonnie as the sun
& ahm-a bound with honour to yer course
The age of gory glory hus begun
I offer ye ma heart, ma sword, ma force
As dae the Stewarts & the bold MacRaes
& many other clansmen hangin youth
Strong boned & gallus fer the coming days
Fired up fer kennin that we fecht fer truth
& goch upon the loch, whose is that boat!
Och aye! by that MacDonald ah have fought

A small boat lands on the shore – a messenger jumps out

Macdonald
Yer highness, as ah bow before yer feet
A’ bring grave parlance from the men of Skye
Gallant MacLeod & MacDonald of Sleat
Are not to join their voices wi’ yer cry
To gan wi’ ye must end in their defeat
They’d rather remain chieftain than to die
& reckon ye shid sail back hame tae France
Fer now yer cause belongs across the sea
Yer venture, altho wrought fae high romance,
Can only end wi’ woe & tragedy

Lochiel
Gan coward! Gan back to the Cuillin range
& tae the Campbells, McKays & Munroes
Bide those lads their allegiance flashes strange
When in brave hearts the rose of battle grows –
Och! see ‘em row, a flight that will be shared
When we cun meet the redcoats on the field
As soon as our braw army is prepared
We’ll march wi’ musket, claymore & wi’ shield
Tae slay the sassenachs of Jonnie Cope
& aw them that survive drape fae the rope!

Charlie
Your words of gold are stardust to mine ears
& here beneath the flutter of this flag
I sense the passion of these sixty years
Prometheus descending from his crag
Being thy regent in my father’s name
We walk the way of happy victory
These islands shall be partial to his fame
& all our subjects live here tenderly
But first the rumble of the guns must start
Come, friends, let us to Edinburgh depart

D’Eguiles
The star has landed on the shore
His standard smartly raised
The Highlands are aloft for war
Tho some his prompt return implore
He marches on unfazed


SCENE 4: The Highland Countryside

Rosie & Eric are just getting dressed after making love

Fergus
Good morning Rosemary

Rosie
Morning my darlin’

Fergus
Ive been watching you sleep, you look like an angel

Rosie
Last night felt… special, Fergus

Fergus
Aye lass, we were born to be together, you & I

Rosie
But I’m worried… war’s not a joke

Fergus
Don’t say it lass – none of that dying business is written in our stars

Rosie
You dinna ken what’ll happen Fergus, no-one does

Fergus
Och – it wont be long before the Prince is back on the throne & all his loyal soldiers shacked up in one of them big castles doon south telling the Emglish what tae dae

Rosie
Do you think we’d have servants too

Fergus
Aye, of course, we’ll have a cook, a gardener & even a nanny for each of oor ten bairns

Rosie
How many?

Fergus
At least ten – we gonna have so many bairns we’ll be making a whole clan of our own

Rosie
Och you’re such a dreamer Eric

Fergus
& they’re all full of you lass – come here

ROSY MORN

Fergus
Im alive
Im alive for you
& all my love for you
Is burnin strong

You are my rosemary
& like the Hebredes
You are in my melodies
When Im in song

Chorus
& makes me sing
This song for you
When rosy morning
Keeps shining through

Rosie
All of those things you do
They keep me inter you
Just like the winter dew
You taste of spring

& when you take off your clothes
You make me curl up my toes
Your back unfurls as it grows
An angel wing

Chorus
& makes me sing
This song for you
When rosy morning
Keeps shining through

Fergus
You are my silver rose
& when my lovin grows
It falls like summer snows
In golden corn

& just one look at you
Gets me all co-ca choo
Some drop of silver dew
This rosy morn

Chorus
& makes me sing
This song for you
When rosy morning
Keeps shining through

You are my silver rose
& like a flight of rainbows
Im never comin down
This rosy morn

Enter Eric

Eric
Fergus, come on lad, I’ve been looking all over for ya – the burning cross cover’d the island last night, mountain to mountain it went – the Macleans are going to war

Fergus
Already

Eric
Aye – today we’re meeting Duncan doon the glen – we’re off to join the Prince

Rosie
Do you think you can win brother

Eric
Och, aye – we’re invincible, just one blast of our highland lungs & that fat German pig doon London will be swimming the channel to France – now move it Fergus, we’ve got a war tae fight!

Fergus
I’ll see you soon Rosie, try not to fret lass…

Rosie
Try not to die, alright

They kiss & the men exit – Rosie in tears


THE CONCHORDIA FOLIO

“Its worth a pop, right, to try & knock that Shakespeare

Off his feffin’ perch!”

35062508_10156430365647520_5136386788406853632_n.jpg

Interview: Damian Beeson Bullen