The Twa Weelums

I'm Sairgeant Weelum Henderson frae Pairth,              That's wha I am!     There's jist ae bluidy regiment on airth              That's worth a damn;     An' gin the bonniest fechter o' the lot              Ye seek to see,     Him that's the best - whaur ilka man's a Scot -              Speir you at me!     Gin there's a hash o' Gairmans pitten oot              By aichts an' tens,     That Wully Henderson's been thereaboot              A'body kens.     Fegs-aye! Yon Weelum that's in Gairmanie,              He hadna reckoned     Wi' Sairgeant Weelum Henderson, an' wi'              The Forty-Second!     Yon day we lichtit on the shores o' France,              The lassies standin'     Trod ilk on ither's taes to get the chance              To see us landin';     The besoms! O they smiled to me - an' yet              They couldna' help it,     (Mysel', I just was thinkin' foo we'd get              The Gairmans skelpit.)     I'm wearied wi' them, for it's aye the same              Whaure'er we gang,     Oor Captain thinks we've got his een to blame,              But, man! he's wrang;     I winna say he's no as smairt a lad              As ye micht see     Atween twa Sawbaths - aye, he's no sae bad,              But he's no me!     Weel, let the limmers bide; their bonnie lips              Are fine an' reid;     But me an' Weelum's got to get to grips              Afore we're deid;     An' gin he thinks he hasn't met his match              He'll sune be wiser.     Here's to mysel'! Here's to the auld Black Watch!              An' damn the Kaiser!