Did ye see the brave lads smiling,
As they drew their bonnets' down,
With the shortened breath indrawn and tight,
The flashing eyes, the steadfast frown?
Did ye hear the whistling shot and shell,
That swept the kilted foremost ranks
Like the snow wind's call before its fall,
As clouds lie piled in fleecy banks?
Ah! no, t'was not the keen gust bite,
That reddens cheeks with healthful glow,