Here's to mysel'! Here's to the auld Black Watch!
An' damn the Kaiser!
THE FIELD BY THE LIRK O' THE HILL
Daytime an' nicht,
Sun, wind an' rain;
The lang, cauld licht
O' the spring months again.
The yaird's a' weed,
An' the fairm's a' still--
Wha'll sow the seed
I' the field by the lirk o' the hill?
Prood maun ye lie,
Prood did ye gang;
Auld, auld am I,
But O! life's lang!
Gaists i' the air,
Whaups cryin' shrill,
An' you nae mair
I' the field by the lirk o' the hill--
Aye, bairn, nae mair, nae mair,
I' the field by the lirk o' the hill!
MONTROSE
Gin I should fa',
Lord, by ony chance,
And they howms o' France
Haud me for guid an' a';
And gin I gang to Thee,
Lord, dinna blame,
But oh! tak' tent, tak' tent o' an Angus lad like me
An' let me hame!
I winna seek to bide
Awa owre lang,
Gin but Ye'll let me gang
Back to yon rowin' tide
Whaur aye Montrose--my ain--
Sits like a queen,
The Esk ae side, ae side the sea whaur she's set her lane
On the bents between.
I'll hear the bar
Loupin' in its place,
An' see the steeple's face
Dim i' the creepin' haar;[2]
And the toon-clock's sang
Will cry through the weit,
And the coal-bells ring, aye ring, on the cairts as they gang
I' the drookit street.
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