To My Darling Papa–Thy Little Odette.
And beyond the crosses many fresh graves have been dug. With hungry open mouths they wait. Even now I can hear the guns that are going to feed them. Soon there will be more crosses, and more and more. Then they will cease, and wives and mothers will come here to weep.
Ah! Peace so precious must be bought with blood and tears. Let us honor and bless the men who pay, and envy them the manner of their dying; for not all the jeweled orders on the breasts of the living can vie in glory with the little wooden cross the humblest of these has won.…
THE TWA JOCKS
Says Bauldy MacGreegor frae Gleska tae Hecky MacCrimmon frae Skye:
“That’s whit I hate maist aboot fechtin’–it makes ye sae deevilish dry;
Noo jist hae a keek at yon ferm-hoose them Gairmans are poundin’ sae fine,
Weel, think o’ it, doon in the dunnie there’s bottles and bottles o’ wine.
A’ hell’s fairly belchin’ oot yonner, but oh, lad, I’m ettlin’ tae try.…”
“If it’s poose she’ll be with ye whateffer,” says Hecky MacCrimmon frae Skye.
Says Bauldy MacGreegor frae Gleska: “Whit price fur a funeral wreath?
We’re dodgin’ a’ kinds o’ destruction, an’ jist by the skin o’ oor teeth.
