_But I mind me o' Strathmore._"

It's daith comes skirling through the sky,
Below there's naucht but pain,
We canna see whaur deid men lie
For the drivin' o' the rain;
Ye a' hae passed frae fear an' doot.
Ye're far frae airthly ill--
--"_We're near, we're here, my wee recruit,_
_An' we fecht for Scotland still._"

[1] Choice.




THE TWA WEELUMS


I'm Sairgeant Weelum Henderson frae Pairth,
That's wha I am!
There's jist ae bluidy regiment on airth
That's worth a damn;
An' gin the bonniest fechter o' the lot
Ye seek to see,
Him that's the best--_whaur ilka man's a Scot_--
Speir you at me!

Gin there's a hash o' Gairmans pitten oot
By aichts an' tens,