78
WORK-A-DAY WARRIORS
He followed down the twining trenchThe way the men did go;Sometimes he wrastled in a sloughAs stern as Solway Flow.Richt ruefully, "Why did I no'Bide at hame like ither folks?"Syne dourly swore he'd see it thro',If he had but clean socks!
He struggled on the endless road,All through the endless night,Thro' wind and weet, thro' snaw and sleet,He was a waeful wight;Quo' he, "I dinna mind being killed,I dinna mind the knocks,If only I could put my feetInto a pair o' socks!"
He stumbled thro' the silent town,And to the ruined farm,Then threw himself among the strawAnd found it welcome, warm;But the clay walls were ill-designedTo stay the Winter's shocks,And a' the nicht his feet were cauld—He dreamed o' nought but socks!
