Violet Jacob Poems

O RAB an Dave an rantin Jim,
The geans were turnin reid
When Scotland saw yer line growe dim,
Wi the pipers at its heid;
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O, IT'S fine when the New an the Auld Year meet,
An the lads gang roarin i' the lichtit street,
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I CANNA see ye, lad, I canna see ye,
For a' yon glory that's aboot yer heid,
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O JEAN, my Jean, when the bell ca's the congregation
Ower valley an hill wi the ding frae its iron mou,
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GIN I should fa',
Lord, by ony chance,
An they howms o France
Haud me for guid an a';
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I'M fairly disjaskit, Christina,
The warld an its glories are tuim;
I'm laid like a stane whaur ye left me,
To greet wi my held i' the broom.
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'O TELL me what was on yer road, ye roarin norlan' Wind,
As ye cam blawin frae the land that's niver frae my mind?
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ABUIN the hill ae muckle star is burnin,
Sae saft an still, my dear, sae far awa,
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THERE'S a tod aye blinkin when the nicht comes doon,
Blinkin wi his lang een an keekin roond an roon',
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I'M Sairgeant Weelum Henderson frae Pairth,
That's wha I am!
There's jist ae bluidy regiment on airth
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