462 The Hunting Grounds 



" There's ane wha sair will greet, Willie- 



The news, oh ! gently brek, 

 For she was a' in a' to me ; 



Ye '11 lo'e her for my sake ! 

 Oh 'tis sair hard to dee, Willie, 



And leave her a' alone ! 

 It 's but for her I greet, laddie 



For her when I am gone. 



" Oh dinna mind my words, Willie, 



And dinna, dinna sigh ; 

 I wadna ca' life back again 



'Tis for my Queen I die ! 

 And 'tis a glorious day, Willie, 



As e'er yon sun set on. 

 Ye '11 comfort a' at hame, laddie, 



When I am deid an* gone ! 



" Now fauld me to your heart, Willie, 



The nicht air 's fearfu' keen ! 

 And kiss me ere I gae, laddie ! 



There's darkness o'er my een. 

 I ken I 'm sinking fast, Willie, 



The cauld strikes to the bone ! 

 Ye'll comfort a' at hame, laddie, 



When I am deid an' gone !" 



Close in his brother's arms, 



Locked in his fast embrace, 

 He passed away as if in sleep, 



A smile upon his face. 

 We cut a lock of curling hair, 



That o'er his brow did wave ; 

 Then by the Alma's rippling stream 



We dug the soldier's grave. 



