In August, when the heather blooms, An' grouse are fairly on the wing, The scented breeze frae hill an' moor, Tae hunters health an' pleesure bring. Then hunters meet at Auld Troloss, As they hae dune for mony a year: Tam Johnston ready taks the names O' beaters there frae far an' near. The Laird aye greets them wi' a smile, An' shakes auld servants by the han'; Nae purse-prood autocrat is he, But jist a kindly gentleman. Aye weel esteemed are men like him, An' loyal service they comman'; It isna siller, pomp, or power, But honest worth that maks the man. The guns gae first; each finds his butt; Then beaters bauldly briest the brae; Lang miles atween them an' their hames-- Their herts are licht, sae what care they? They drive the Hoose, they drive the drain, An' next in order comes the mine; Success does a' their efforts croon, When Tammas Johnston marks the line. An' thus the merry hunt goes on, Drive after drive they run them in; An' when they get back tae the Hoose, They ken their heavy darg is dune. They there get coffee in their turn, Some hae milk an' some hae tea, Wi' routh o' breed weel spread wi' jam, An' a bicker o' the barley bree. A few choice spirits meet at nicht Tae spen' a happy social 'oor, When ilka yin is blyth an' bricht, An' meenits pass like fleein' stour. The gentry a' maun share the fun, Nae cless distinction dae they show; Tae Gracie's fiddle weel in tune They trip the "licht fantastic toe." Carmichael is a canty chiel, Tae sing a sang he is'na sweir-- The "Tinkers' Waddin'," "Spellin' o't," An' "Bonnie Lass o' Durisdeer." Then Laidlaw sings aboot the hills, Up whaur the Wanlock waters rowe, An' "True till death," "The Eastern Star," An' "Jessie on the Quarry Knowe." Miss Vickers an' Miss Jonson, tae, The auld-time sangs sae sweetly sing, Accompanied by the auld banjo, The fiddle an' the mandolin. The auld wife in the ingle neuk Raises her voice in cheerfu' key, An' nicely sings "Woods o' Duirmore," An' "The Bonnie Lad that comes tae me." Coachman Fraser, stalwart wight, Does neist a humorous piece recite, Hoo Tibbie lood an' lang did growl When her puir bit lassie brak the bowl. Then Lauder, tho' he canna sing. Does fairly dance the Heelan' Fling, An' Hornpipes, tae; wi' heavy wear, His feet like hammers strike the flair. Gracie gies them o' his best Till voice an' airms are needin' rest; Hoo he does sing, hoo he does play, It wadna dae for me tae say. The 'oor is gane; some maun gang hame; They canna' stay the han' o' time. They pairt tae meet some ither nicht, For the happy days o' Auld Langsyne. _Chorus after every 2nd verse._ Durum dook an' doo an' dae, Durum dook an' derry O. Durum dook an' doo an' dae, Hurrah for the hunt sae merry O. THE OTTER HUNT.