Sough o' war

28
FAE FRANCE
An’ left upo’ the barbit weer gey taits o’ breek
an’ sark;
They bummed an’ droned some unco tune as
we crap up ; it raise
Like fae the laft I Ve hard the quire lift up
some paraphrase.
Ae creeshy gurk that led the lave was bessin’
lood an’ strang,
Fan something hat him i’ the kyte that fairly
changed his sang;
We benched an’ flang, an’ killed a curn, an’
soosh’t them front an’ flank.
Like loons that’s trued the squeel to stane
young puddocks i’ the stank.
The rippit spread, the rockets raise ; ’twas time
for hiz to skice.
An’ tho’ we joukit as we ran, an’ flappit eence
or twice,
Owre aft oor pig gaed to the wall, for noo we
strack the day—
Oor brow Lieutenant onywye—fan a’ in lames
it lay;
A bullet bored him throu’ the hochs, it took
him like a stane,