Wild Rover Lads - by
Mickle we missed, be it confessed,
That brings auld age content;
Blaw the wind East, or blaw it West,
‘Twas there wi’ a sang we went.
World War I
Reconciliation - by
When all the stress and all the toil is over,And my lover lies sleeping by your lover,With alien earth on hands and brows and feet, Then we may meet. Moving sorrowfully with uneven paces,The bright sun shining on our ravaged faces,There, very quietly, without sound or speech, […]
In Memoriam - by
Blue-eyed, white-souled; blameless in word and deed! —
How fortunate a thing it is to leave
This life in such a way that none may grieve,
A Woman in the Street - by
O bonnie lad wi’ the kilt sae braw
An’ tossel’t sporran swingin’ –
Wi’ dirk at the hip, an’ ribbons rid;
Ye set my hert a-singin’.
Rastatt: III - by
Within these cages day by day we pace The bitter shortness of the meted span; And this and that way variously we plan Our poor excursions over the poor place, Cribbed to extinction. Yet remains one grace. For neither bars nor tented wire can ban Full many a roving glance that dares to scan The […]
Nostra Culpa - by
We knew, this thing at least we knew, – the worth Of life: this was our secret learned at birth. We knew that Force the world has deified, How weak it is. We spoke not, so men died. Upon a world down-trampled, blood-defiled, Fearing that men should praise us less, we smiled. We knew the […]
Na Mairbh san Raoin - by
Bu shunntach iad a’ dol thar raoin na strì
Tha ’n sin ’nan laighe sìnt’ an sàmhchair bhuain
Mother - by
Ye were ay a rowdy laddie, Jock,
Since ever ye cam hame,
Unco ill to bed at night,
And dour to wash and kaim.
Jock, to the First Army - by
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…
Hesepe: II - by
How hard it is to think upon this shoal
Of Inanition that the world’s ablaze.
Discharged - by
When the fighting days are over, And we’re finished with the fray,When they draft us back to Dover To be put on pension pay;You may think we’ll be in clover But remember this, my son,When the fighting days are over, Then our fight has just begun. It is hard, there’s no […]
Ar Tìr ’s Ar Gaisgich A Thuit sna Blàir - by
(ii) ’S iomadh fear àlinn, òg, sgairteil, deas-làmhach, Ait-fhaoilt air chinn a bhlàth-chridh’, Tric le ceum daigheann, làidir, ceum aotrum, glan, sàil-ghlan Dhìrich bràigh nam beann mòra, Chaidh a choinneimh a’ bhàis – Tric ga fhaireach’ roimh-làimh – Chaidh suas chum a’ bhlàir ’S tha feur glas an-diugh ’fàs Air na dh’fhàg innleachdan nàmh, Innleachdan […]