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.
An' noo he's awa' tae the famed Dardanelles,
An' we're prood o' the lad, for he's yin o' oorsel's,
If he's spared tae come thro' nae surprise it will be
If for valour he's wearin' the bonnie V.C.