POETRY OLD AND NEW.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LIV, Issue 16434, 10 January 1917, Page 10

POETRY OLD AND NEW.

THE LOWLAND FUZZIES. A THOUSASD Soots, brand sew to the jam*, Marched in the nicht to the scenes of fame; Marched by the light of star-shells strange And tho flare of suns that knew the ranse. Their tongues were tied, their heart* beat fast. As they trekked and thought of how men passed. Phut! came a bullet straight in the'breast Of poor Tarn Green, and one of the best; Ho'fell,with a shriek and curses fierce, His blood was seen by the lights that pierce from the star-shells weird and Seventy fives Which thunder death into Turkish hives. "Pass on," shouted "Jock," a CO. we knew Had the " guts " and nerve of an old Rugger Blue. The column then dipped into j»ola and clay, Whom man; had died for a " bob "a day. Gad! how the bullets pinged and cracked. And the star-shells stowed how we crawled and tacked! " s^ Then came the dawn in a sully that's famed For blood and gangrene, crosses and maimed; And the tdouldy dead made a grim sahite To the thinking Scots who'd come out to shoot ( The deluded Turks befooled to the game By a Pasha mado rich by the cult of shame. Lancashire lads, mourning leaders and pals. Were living in holes like pirates in kralis; Some grunted a welcome, some gave a salute To the tramping "Jocks" now.itchinj to boot The children of Allah, and fine fellows, too, Fooled by a Turk with the blood of & Jew. They filed to the zig-iaggcd Plain of Tears, .iiry saw the hill of slaughtering fears. And moaned for tho riddled dead thst lay. On parapets, wires, and in, stinking c'.°y; The sight made them men, their philosophy changed, Jaws became set, and their rifles ranged. Tho thousand "Jocks" then started to pray To use their steel in the Lowland way; It was answered, too, for the Turks came down Like flies from out of a stinking town. "Allah! Allah!" they cried as they ran; '• Rapid fire!" yelled " Jock " of the Lowland clan. They fell with shrieks that still haunt the brain But others charged on, charged on, in vain; For out of the earth leaped Lowland braves, To gouge out the hearts of those Enver slaves; ' Some cried for mercy, some called on their gods As their blood streamed out to the weltering sods. But death's half the price oi all success, lien mangled and maimed are part of the mess; The thousand Scots at that muster-call Answered to "Jock" but eight hundred in all. Bloody and wise, with death-haunted eyes, They mustered and mourned at the price of the prizeSo, off with your hats, you "times" that skunk, . Saints the diced bonnets thai never know funk; Let their bravery stab, and stab is the shame. That ■ you are a fool while they play that game Not measured in gold, if measured in tears,, But tears that shall blot out the cunning of years. » / .' '■ K."W. Cutpßsu,, Author of "Private 1 .- •• - SiiudTsßuoS.''. •*«• - ■-•.-*■