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 bonnie lips

Are fine an’ reid;

But me an’ Weelum's got to get to grips

Afore we're deid;

An’ gin he thinks he has n't met his match

He'll sune be wiser.

Here's to mysel’! Here's to the auld Black Watch!

An’ damn the Kaiser!