It brings the red bluid tae the broo, Ye canna weel be doon o' moo, When bluid yer veins gangs coorsin' thro', When at the game o' Curlin'. Gin ye wad please yer worthy skip, Stan' firm in natch an' dinna slip, Direct yer stane straucht frae the hip, When ye are at the Curlin'. An' if he wants't a wee bit looder, Jist draw yer stane richt tae the shooder, Or he will say ye hae'na pooder, For the manly game o' Curlin'. Gin ye expect tae win the cup, On besoms ye maun haud the grup, An' aye be there tae soop it up, When ye are at the Curlin'. An' when ye're at the soopin' game Min' an' soop afore the stane, Or ye've nae yin but yersel' tae blame If shots ye lose at Curlin'. Here, Lords an' Dukes wi' Rab an' Tam Meet as equals, man tae man; A heazer tae the social plan Is the guid auld game o' Curlin'. A WORD O' ADVICE. Lloyd-George an' Haldane hae had a cast-oot, I dinna weel ken what it's a' been aboot; I houp it is feenished; we canna afford At this creetical time tae hae ony discord. Oor country's at war and the need is fu' great Tae staun a' thegither for Freedom an' State; The slacker's resources, likewise profiteer's, At this time o' the day we maun jist commandeer. Employers o' labour an' dealers in grain, Ne'er let country's need be yer ain selfish gain; Siller's no everything, that ye maun ken; Let honour come first in yer dealins wi' men. Workers wha win by the sweat o' your broo A leevin' wi' pick, hammer, shovel, or ploo, Strike na the noo--'tis the enemy's gain-- Try some ither wey tae come intae yer ain. Let's remember the brave lads we hae at the front; For you and for me they are bearin' the brunt; An' dae a' we can tae keep up their herts, At least let them see we are playin' oor pairts. If men o' a' parties my advice will but tak' We'll sune hae the foe on the braid o' his back; A bonnie new era we'll then usher in, And wi' militarism for ever be dune. JOCK. In oor lanely wee clachan there leeved a young chiel Wha had never been far frae his faither's ain biel; His manners wad lead ye tae think he was saft, An' e'en tae believe there were wairps in the waft. 'Mang his mates he was aye made the butt for the jest, An' they tried mony methods his courage tae test; But Jock's even temper they never could rile, He answered a' gibes wi' a braid sunny smile. When war was declared an' the King called for men Frae the city, the county, the mountain, an' glen, O' the flo'er o' the clachan he got a guid stock, Strange! naebody ever yince thocht aboot Jock. Then Jock disappeared frae the clachan yae day, Tae the nearest recruit shop he'd hastened away; An' the neist time we saw him we gat quite a shock, For a braw sodger-laddie they'd made oot o' Jock.