There are hearts bowed down in the manse in our town, As there are in the miners' cot, For the brave sons who fell 'mid the shot and the shell, Whose names shall ne'er be forgot In the Old Grey Glen; they proved to be men, When their lives so freely they gave; On the scroll of fame we'll inscribe each name, While they lie in the soldier's grave. They hear not the battle, with cannons' loud rattle, No sound can awake them to fight once again; They have gone from this life with its bloodshed and strife, Their numbers are found on the list of the slain. Yet why should we weep, they have well earned their sleep, Altho' to the glen they will never return; They stood in the fight for God and the right, Then why, oh why, should we mourn? Then all bereaved ones should be proud of their sons (And pride ought to smother each sigh and each tear), As Britain to-day is proud of her stay, When danger and death is near; Oh! Great Power Divine, pray hasten the time When all men shall know Thee and each knee shall bend; Then Peace like a dove shall descend from above, This terrible carnage to end. THE AULD VOLUNTEERS. _D COMPANY, K.O.S.B._ Time brings its changes in country an' toon, We're conscious o' this when we tak' a look roun'; Guid men hae gane; gin ye len' me yer ears, I'll bring ye in min' o' the Auld Volunteers. There were men frae Kirkconnel, sae buirdly an' fine, Though the maist o' them wrocht in the depths o' the mine, A fine set o' fellows, devoid o' a' fears, They made a guid third o' the Auld Volunteers. Doon Mennock's fair glen, frae Wanlock's high hills, Far famed for their beauty an' clear sparkling rills, Cam' giants in stature; noo mark ye wha hears, They were real men an' true tae the Auld Volunteers. Descendants o' famous on history's scroll, The brave men o' Sanquhar completed the roll; Wi' pride in their herts they looked back through the years, "These then were those" in the Auld Volunteers. Captains Stewart and Wilson, M'Connel an' a', When they mairched oot the lads o' the heather sae braw, Thocht D.C., K.O.S.B. then had few compeers, Gey prood were the three o' the Auld Volunteers. THE YOUNG VOLUNTEERS. The Young Volunteers frae the vale o' the Nith, May their herts never fail, nor their airms lose their pith. As we hear o' their daurin', oor hert it aye cheers, An' we pray for the lads in the Young Volunteers. The day will sune dawn, in the East an' the West, Whaur oor brave lads are gieing the foemen nae rest. The fecht will be owre when the morning appears, Wi' victory's croon for the Young Volunteers. Some are awa' tae the Land o' the Leal, Forgotten are bullets an' deidly cauld steel, Whaur there's angels, bricht angels, tae wipe awa' tears, An' the watchword is love, wi' oor ain Volunteers. THE PONY DRIVER'S LAMENT FOR PUIR GEORDIE,