At Loose, it wis after a sconnersome fecht, On the field o' the slain I wis crawlin' aboot; And the rockets were burnin' red holes in the nicht; And the guns they were veciously thunderin' oot; When sudden I heard a bit sound like a sigh, And there in a crump-hole a kiltie I saw: "Whit ails ye, ma lad? Are ye woundit?" says I. "I've lost ma wee whustle," says Sandy McGraw. "'Twas oot by yon bing where we pressed the attack, It drapped frae ma pooch, and between noo and dawn There isna much time so I'm jist crawlin' back. . . ." "Ye're daft, man!" I telt him, but Sandy wis gone. Weel, I waited a wee, then I crawled oot masel, And the big stuff wis gorin' and roarin' around, And I seemed tae be under the oxter o' hell, And Creation wis crackin' tae bits by the sound. And I says in ma mind: "Gang ye back, ye auld fule!" When I thrilled tae a note that wis saucy and sma'; And there in a crater, collected and cool, Wi' his wee penny whistle wis Sandy McGraw. Ay, there he wis playin' as gleg as could be, And listenin' hard wis a spectacled Boche; Then Sandy turned roon' and he noddit tae me, And he says: "Dinna blab on me, Sergeant McTosh. The auld chap is deein'. He likes me tae play. It's makin' him happy. Jist see his een shine!" And thrillin' and sweet in the hert o' the fray Wee Sandy wis playin' 'The Watch on the Rhine'. . . . . . The last scene o' a'--'twas the day that we took That bit o' black ruin they ca' Labbiesell. It seemed the hale hillside jist shivered and shook, And the red skies were roarin' and spewin' oot shell. And the Sergeants were cursin' tae keep us in hand, And hard on the leash we were strainin' like dugs, When upward we shot at the word o' command, And the bullets were dingin' their songs in oor lugs. And onward we swept wi' a yell and a cheer, And a' wis destruction, confusion and din, And we knew that the trench o' the Boches wis near, And it seemed jist the safest bit hole tae be in. So we a' tumbled doon, and the Boches were there, And they held up their hands, and they yelled: "Kamarad!" And I merched aff wi' ten, wi' their palms in the air, And my! I wis prood-like, and my! I wis glad. And I thocht: if ma lassie could see me jist then. . . . When sudden I sobered at somethin' I saw, And I stopped and I stared, and I halted ma men, For there on a stretcher wis Sandy McGraw.