The Soldiers Return

  the soldier's return
  air—“the mill, mill, o.”
  when wild war's deadly blast was blawn,
  and gentle peace returning,
  wi' mony a sweet babe fatherless,
  and mony a widow mourning;
  i left the lines and tented field,
  where lang i'd been a lodger,
  my humble knapsack a' my wealth,
  a poor and honest sodger.
  a leal, light heart was in my breast,
  my hand unstain'd wi' plunder;
  and for fair scotia hame again,
  i cheery on did wander:
  i thought upon the banks o' coil,
  i thought upon my nancy,
  i thought upon the witching smile
  that caught my youthful fancy.
  at length i reach'd the bonie glen,
  where early life i sported;
  i pass'd the mill and trysting thorn,
  where nancy aft i courted:
  wha spied i but my ain dear maid,
  down by her mother's dwelling!
  and turn'd me round to hide the flood
  that in my een was swelling.
  wi' alter'd voice, h i, “sweet lass,
  sweet as yon hawthorn's blossom,
  o! happy, happy may he be,
  that's dearest to thy bosom:
  my purse is light, i've far to gang,
  and fain would be thy lodger;
  i've serv'd my king and country lang—
  take pity on a sodger.”
  sae wistfully she gaz'd on me,
  and lovelier was than ever;
  quo' she, “a sodger ance i lo'ed,
  forget him shall i never:
  our humble cot, and hamely fare,
  ye freely shall partake it;
  that gallant badge—the dear cockade,
  ye're welcome for the sake o't.”
  she gaz'd—she redden'd like a rose—
  syne pale like only lily;
  she sank within my arms, and cried,
  “art thou my ain dear willie?”
  “by him who made yon sun and sky!
  by whom true love's regarded,
  i am the man; and thus may still
  true lovers be rewarded.
  “the wars are o'er, and i'm come hame,
  and find thee still true-hearted;
  tho' poor in gear, we're rich in love,
  and mair we'se ne'er be parted.”
  quo' she, “my grandsire left me gowd,
  a mailen plenish'd fairly;
  and come, my faithfu' sodger lad,
  thou'rt welcome to it dearly!”
  for gold the merchant ploughs the main,
  the farmer ploughs the manor;
  but glory is the sodger's prize,
  the sodgerpppp's wealth is honor:
  the brave poor sodger ne'er despise,
  nor count him as a stranger;
  remember he's his country's stay,
  in day and hour of danger.