'Mid Scotland's moors and Scotland's brakes.
But, oh! 'tis love that makes me roam
Forever in the land of cakes!
And woe betide the baker's guile,
Whose blight destroyed the maiden's smile!
O woe the day, and woe the deed,
And woa—gee woa—my bonnie steed!
Barry Pain.
THE POETS AT TEA
1.—(Macaulay, who made it)