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He's a braw Hoon an' A'm encouraged by the fine things that the baron said aboot ma poetry. Ech! A've got a graund vairse in ma heid for Mr. Muller's buryin'! Hae ye a seegair aboot ye, Captain Blackie? A' gave ma case to the Duke of Argyle an' he has no' retairned it." There arrived one day at the aerodrome a large packing-case addressed "Sergeant Tam."
I put a drum into him at close range an' the puir feller side-slippit an' nose-dived. Noo was it Freetz, then? Weel, weel!" "We want you to take a wreath over he'll be buried at Ludezeel." "With the verra greatest pleasure," said Tam heartily, "and if ye'll no mind, Captain, A'd like to compose a wee vairse to pit in the box." For two hours Tam struggled heroically with his composition.
"Captain Blackie, sir-r, A've got ma ain idea what B. I. stands for. It's no complimentary to the inventor. If sax is better, than A'm goin' to believe in an auld sayin'." "What is that, Tam?" "'Theer's safety in numbers," said Tam, "an' the while A'm on the subject of leeterature A'd like yeer opinion on a vairse A' made aboot Mr. MacMuller."
That's a spirit I'm sorry to notice in ye, and I regret to see that ye're already looking sulky at rebuke. The vairse, pursued Armstrong, 'is mainly sickly, whining, puling stuff, as far away from Nature and experience as it's easily possible to be. Now, I invite ye. Listen to this. He began to read with a fine disdain: "Come not when I am dead To drop thy foolish tears upon my grave."
Long, long ago, when I was a bairn at my mother's knee, I read a vairse of poetry which has never come to my mind till now, when I'm verra near my Maker, I canna repeat the exact words, but I think it goes like this," he whispered, "'He who, from zone to zone, Guides o'er the trackless main the sea-bird's flight, In the long way that I must tread alone Will guide my steps aright."
She spoke the words clearly, and with such variety and intelligence, that Sampson recanted, and broke in upon the " very pretty " "how sweet" and "who is it by?" of the others, by shouting, "Very weak trash very cleanly sung. Now give us something worth the wear and tear of your orgins. Immortal vairse widded t' immortal sounds; that is what I understand b' a song."
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