Deveron days

THE SOLDIERS’ CAIRN
IE me a hill wi’ the heather on’t,
An* a reid sun drappin’ doon,
Or the mists o* the mornin* risin’ saft
Wi’ the reek owre a wee grey toon.
Gie me a howe by the lang Glen road,
For it’s there ’mang the whin and fern
(D’ye mind on’t, Will? Are ye hearin’, Dod?)
That we’re biggin* the Soldiers’ Cairn.
Far awa’ is the Flanders land
Wi’ fremmit France atween,
But mony a howe o’ them baith the day
Has a hap o’ the Gordon green ;
It’s them we kent that’s lyin’ there,
An’ it’s nae wi’ stane or airn,
But wi* brakin’ herts, an* mem’ries sair,
That we’re biggin* the Soldiers* Cairn.
Doon, laich doon the Dullan sings—
An* I ken o* an aul* sauch tree,
Where a wee loon’s wahnie’s hingin’ yet
That’s dead in* Picardy;
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