His buzzum burned wi' thowt's o' war,
He long'd for battles clatter.
He grieved to think noa foeman dar
To cross a sup o' watter;
He owned one spot,—an' nobbut one,
Within his heart wor tender,
An' as his darlin had it fun,
He'd be her bold defender.
At neet he donn'd his uniform,
War trials to endure,