Refrain

When this wild war is over I will go to his grave, The salt tear to shed for my gallant and brave.

Oh! bitter is my sorrow, and sadly I weep, And fain would I join in my lover's last sleep.

REFRAIN.

When God in His mercy shall call me above We shall meet and rejoice in His infinite love.

AT DAVY'S GRAVE.

The life of one we called our own Has ended here. Here lies his frame; his soul has flown To grander sphere, Where pain and suffering come no more, Where silver waves lap the golden shore, Where the music of the angelic choir Falls on the ear.

His simple life showed noble parts From day to day: By love and trust, o'er all our hearts He gained the sway. Our love and care tenfold repaid By him, now "dear departed shade," Resigned to suffering, while he made His heavenward way.

The circling lapwing's eerie cry O'er the wind-swept mound, And Afton sweetly singing by Doth requiem sound. We'll leave him here with Nature's wild, Fit resting-place for Nature's child, Whose life was pure and undefiled, In hallowed ground.

SONGS.

THE AULD SANGS.

Medley. Tune, "The Auld Hoose."

When first I heard the auld sangs 'Twas at my mither's knee; I'll min' her voice sae sweet an' low Until the day I dee. She sang the sang o' Auld Lang Syne, The Braes Abune Bonaw, The Bonnie Woods o' Craigielea, An' Nannie's Noo Awa'.

CHORUS.

The Auld Sangs, the Auld Sangs, I like sae weel tae hear. O, sing tae me the Auld Sangs Tae hert an' memory dear.

Yestreen I gaed a waefu' gait, I tramped o'er moss an' fen Tae haud a tryst wi' Bonnie Kate In Moraig's fairy glen. Ye Banks an' Braes o' Bonnie Doon, The Lass o' Ballochmyle, An' ye shall walk in silk attire Wi' Mary o' Argyle.

CHORUS.

Braw, Braw Lads on Yarrow Braes, Wi' Rabbie's Bonnie Jean, Royal Chairlie's noo awa', An' Jock o' Hazeldean. Gae bring tae me a pint o' wine, Get up an' bar the door. Guidnicht, an' joy be wi' ye a', My bark is on the shore.

MY AULD VIOLIN.

When I was a callan jist entered my teens, Wi' my ain penny savin's an' help o' my freens, I managed tae gether a pickle o' tin Tae buy ye in Glesca, my auld violin.

I min' when I got ye hoo prood I was then, I couldna' been mair sae tho' laird o' the glen; As I lovingly cuddled ye under my chin I vowed I wad cherish my auld violin.

The first time I tried ye yer notes soonded queer, But at scrapin' an' shiftin' I did persevere; "The Last Rose o' Simmer" and "Father O'Flynn" I sune learned tae play on my auld violin.

I thocht when I'd learned weel tae han'le the bow There had ne'er been aic-like since the days o' Neil Gow; For Skinner or Murdoch I cared na a pin As I drew oot the chords frae my auld violin.

Ye gaed tae the concerts, the waddin's, and balls, An' encores were rife frae the pit an' the stalls; An' the youths wi' the dancin' were fain tae begin When they heard the blithe lilt o' my auld violin.

Tho' hard be my fortune an' sair be my toil Tae gain me a leevin' frae mine or frae soil, I'll sit by the fire when my day's darg is dune, An' drive awa' care wi' my auld violin.

When the Trumpet shall soun' an' the ca' shall go forth, Tae the east, tae the wast, tae the sooth, an' the north, When they that are ready shall be a' gethered in, I fain wad be there wi' my auld violin.

THE AULD THACKIT HOOSE.

I'll sing ye a sang aboot the days o' langsyne When the thochts o' the past are the first on my min'; Then many happy days I spent when I was young In the Auld Thackit Hoose on the braes o' the burn.

My faither an' my mither, sae canty an' sae croose, Were happy wi' their bairns in their ain auld hoose; Noo they're sleepin' in the mools an' sair dae I murn, In the Auld Thackit Hoose on the braes o' the burn.

My brithers an' my sisters hae a' taen their flicht, An' they're far frae the bield whaur they first saw the licht; But I'm shair that in longin' their thochts aften turn Tae the Auld Thackit Hoose on the braes o' the burn.

Noo I'm gettin' auld an' doited an' I'm wearin' awa' Tae the land whaur there's nae pain nor sorrow ava', An' lanesome I'm waitin' till the Maister says, Come, Frae the Auld Thackit Hoose on the braes o' the burn.

THE AULD GREY GLEN.