O' THE HILL
MONTROSE
THE ROAD TO MARYKIRK
KIRSTY'S OPINION
THE BRIG
THE KIRK BESIDE THE SANDS
GLORY
THE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOVE
A CHANGE O' DEILS
REJECTED
THE LAST O' THE TINKLER

IN ENGLISH

FRINGFORD BROOK
PRISON
PRESAGE
THE BIRD IN THE VALLEY
BACK TO THE LAND
THE SCARLET LILIES
FROSTBOUND
ARMED
"THE HAPPY WARRIOR"
UNITY

IN SCOTS

JOCK, TO THE FIRST ARMY

O Rab an' Dave an' rantin' Jim,
The geans were turnin' reid
When Scotland saw yer line grow dim,
Wi' the pipers at its heid;
Noo, i' yon warld we dinna ken,
Like strangers ye maun gang--
_"We've sic a wale[1] o' Angus men_
_That we canna weary lang."_

An' little Wat--my brither Wat--
Man, are ye aye the same?
Or is yon sma' white hoose forgot
Doon by the strath at hame?
An' div' ye mind foo aft we trod
The Isla's banks before?--
--"_My place is wi' the Hosts o' God,_
_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,
That Wully Henderson's been thereaboot
A'body kens.
Fegs-aye! Yon Weelum that's in Gairmanie,
He hadna reckoned
Wi' Sairgeant Weelum Henderson, an' wi'
The Forty-Second!

Yon day we lichtit on the shores o' France,
The lassies standin'
Trod ilk on ither's taes to get the chance
To see us landin';
The besoms! O they smiled to me--an' yet
They couldna' help it,
(Mysel', I just was thinkin' foo we'd get
The Gairmans skelpit.)

I'm wearied wi' them, for it's aye the same
Whaure'er we gang,
Oor Captain thinks we've got his een to blame,
But, man! he's wrang;
I winna say he's no as smairt a lad
As ye micht see
Atween twa Sawbaths--aye, he's no sae bad,
But he's no me!

Weel, let the limmers bide; their