POETRY.
JOCK GILLANDERS : OR THE CONSOLATIONS OF WAR.
As Ozn MAs's TALE.
GAB east, gae west, gae up the brae, Otte doon the burn, gae whaur ye please, Ye'll no' find ony lads tho day, For a' the lads is ower the seas Wi' H.L.I. or K.S.B.
An' a' that's left fae France. or Flanders
Is some auld haverin' chiel like me Tae tell the tale e' Jock' Offenders. Jock never did a job o' work, He set oor lads an unto pace, Ye never seen him near the Kirk Or ony ither decent place; A rantin', boozin', poachin' pup, The County cells he'd often sample; The meenister had gi'en him up. An' Jockie wis oor Bad Example.
There cam' a day a twalmont' syne When Jockie ga'ed beyond the mark Wi' doin'e i' the poachin' line At auld Sir George's at the Park; Jock gi'ed the keeper's heid a dunt- An' gey an' near it cam' tae killin'— " It's Peterheid or else the Front! " Says Jockie, an' he took the shillin'.
Keep's a' ! He wis an awfu' thorn In ithers' flesh, a poo'er for evil; His sergeant damned him nicht an' morn, His Colonel said he wis a deevil.
Until they got him ower tae France He pentit ilia billet purple; And noo he's got the rank o' Lance, The V.C.—an' a lifelang hirple.
I casna tell the story richt, But they wig forrit an' forsaken, There cam' a struggle i' the nicht An' for a wee their trench wig taken; But Jock cleft ony he could see Frae brow tae chin or maybe deeper ; " Tak' that, ye muckle sumphs! " says he, " That's what I meant tae gi'e son keeper."
Jock turned the tide and a' their loss Wis soon regainit by the rest, An' Jock, sair battered, won the Cross; Ye'll see the ribbon on his breast.
An' noo when folks rine doon the war Or says hoo wrang is strums an' danders, I hear them oot, then tell the bar
0' rantin', roarin' Jock Gillanders.
HILTON BROWN.
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