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!