Aboyne in War Time

Guid Lord, we're livin' in an age
The like has never been;
But Ye micht stop this awfu' War
Wi' something unforeseen.

I'm sure Aboyne has deen its bit:
Oor loons are a' awa';
There's nae a hoose far loons was in
But what they've ane or twa.

The Minister (1) left his bonnie Manse
An's cosy ingle stane;
He gaed tae cheer the loons oot there:
They liked him ilka ane.

I'm sure his pray'rs they ha'e been heard
By Ane wha rules us a';
As yet we hinna lost a loon,
Tho' wounded ane or twa.

There is a hoose (2) jist owre the brig
Been visited by the Queen;
Six sturdy lads did leave that ha'!
They've left it noo wi' ane.

Alberta, (3) -that's anither hoose.-
Seven sons did ging awa'!
In War time that's the loons we like;
God bless them, ane an' a'!

I'm owre auld tae fecht mysel',-
I'm mair than fifty-twa;
There's fower (4) o'oors there fechtin' for's;
We've anxious times an' a'.

But the sun is dippin' in the West;
It's gloamin' wi' me noo;
I'll hae tae cross the Jordan seen:
I hope I'll paddle thro'.

Oor Sodger Loons.

I was sittin' in my chair yestreen-
An' awfu' nicht o' snaw:
I was min'in' o' the sodger loons:
Ye ken they're far awa'.

They're doon intae the trenches,
Up tae the knees in glaur;
While the shirker he is snug in bed,
Nae thinkin' o' the war.

But if conscription has to come,
He'll hae to gang an' a';
His mither she'll lay by his tit
An' pooch his penny ba;!

I think the loons wha've volunteered
Are an honour tae oor nation,
For keepin' a' the Huns at bay
Till they dee o' starvation.

I'm sure the loons are nae forgot
By the auld folks left at hame;
We sen' tae them the best o' things
(Sometimes a big fat hen!)

Nae win'er tho' some mithers sigh
Fan they gang tae their bed;
They canna sleep for thinkin' o'
The wounded and the dead.

We've surely deen some dreidfu' things
Afore this war's been sent;
Wi' Zepp'lins (5), earthquakes, wars and' a',
The earth is nearly rent.

But we're proud o' Admiral Beatty(6);
He's a demon on the sea:
Gi'e him his "Lion" (7) an' "Tiger" back,
An' he'll gar the Germans flee.

But I am sure it's a' oor wish
This awfu' war would cease;
Gi's a' the mithers back their loons,
An' bless the earth wi' Peace.

Oor Loons Again.

Guid Lord, Ye mauna leave's iv noo;
We're awfu' in distress:
We've wan'ered lang ootside Yer fauld,
But noo we a' confess.

We're humbled doon wi' contrite herts:
Oh, gin this war wad cease!
But Ye micht jist stretch oot Yer han',
An' say-"LAT THERE BE PEACE!"

The rich, the puir, Ye've made's alike,
An' a' oor herts are sair
Fan sittin' in the hoose at e'en
An' seein' the vacant chair. (8)

Oor loons they lie in nameless graves,
Far owre the boundless sea,
Nae gilted steens tae tell their names,
Nor yet far they may be.
.
But there's a Day,-it's comin' seen,-
Fan a' oor loons 'ill rise:
They'll a' get croons upo' their heids,
An' be ta'en up tae the skies.

For the Shirker.

I've got a plan for shirkers noo,
I dinna think can fail;
He needna tak' his mither oot;
He'd better gang himsel'.

Jist pit a bag oot owre his heid,
Cut holes oot for his een,
Syne stick him up against a wa',
He'll scare the Germans seen.

But if the shirker shirks oot there,
I'm sorry for the scene;
They winna hae his childish play,
The wark a' maun be deen.

It's men an' men', an' still more men,
We'll need to win the day;
Lord Kitchener (9) says we MUST have men
To win this bloody fray.