LINES
COMPOSED IN THE TIME OF WAR.
Ha! what’s a’ your hurry my blythe laughing lassie?
What mak’s you sae merry that’s been sae lang wae?
Sae cheerily smiling, weel pleas’d, and sae dressy,
Ye ha’e na been seen for this mony a day?
Is Jamie come hame again frae the French prison?
I read i’ your looks that I haena guess’d wrang;
Said she, I’ll no hide it, for frankly confessing,
I hope now to see him afore it be lang.
See here are twa letters frae him an’ my brither,
They’re baith to be here in a fortnight at maist;
I’m gaun the blythe tidings to tell Jamie’s mither,
Sae that’s just the cause o’ my gladness and haste.
I left her, an’ thought how destructive is fighting,
Contriv’d by nae guid to hand folk in a steer;
Keeps mony a body themselves ay affrighting,
For brither, friend, husband, or son, that is dear.
Some wars on ae side hae been right it is granted,
But ilk’ sober person’s opinion runs thus—
That war aye, if possible, should be prevented,
The wide warld’s wealth canna balance the loss.
I’m no a deep-learn’d far-skill’d politician,
But common sense tells me that war is a fiend,
Spreading poverty, bloodshed, an’ fell desolation,
Sic havoc I heartily wish at an end.