Wartime Restrictions and Afflictions

The country's in a sorry mess
And nane in pre-war days could guess
At whisky four and six the gless
---To them that get it---
And that we hae to dae wi' less
Is sair regrettet.

But war's a scandal and disgrace
Where commonsense is barred a place
And greed and envy fix their base
On brutal might
And jealousy 'tween race and race
Sweir Black is White.

Maist weekly there's some new prescription
On how to save for war production
And strong appeals for mair restriction
In what we eat
Forgettin' we've enough affliction
Through rationed meat.

By wireless and the press we're warned
To wear auld claes although auld-farrand
And socks however patched and darned
In taes or heel
For thrift means noo for a' concerned
The nation's weal.

And though wind blaws frae the North Pole
Wi' icy blasts that's ill to thole
The clogan cry is Save the Coal
By tons and tons
That war supplies get to their goal
To blast the Huns.

That brings to mind mair peacefu' days
When dry hard peats the heat did raise
And we could sit and toast oor taes
Afore the lowe
And watch the lichtsome cheery blaze
And wait for thowe. (Thaw [CSD])

But this infernal Income Tax
That's docked off what the worker mak's
Who need to stoop and bend their backs
In damp and grime
Accoonts for what production lacks
Through loss o' time.

'Tween half mens earnin's commandeerin'
Through Powers that be aye interferein'
And Jews and Gentiles profiteerin'
In every line
The world seems to hae lost its bearin'
Since thirty-nine.

But when we force the beaten Huns
To up their hauns and doon their guns
We'll see that they, while water runs
From land to sea,
Show due respect to Britain's sons
In years to be.

Then when we've finished off the German
We've still to fix the yellow vermin
Whose very numbers seem alarmin'
Like foul mauk flees (Bluebottle flies [CSD])
Over every creek and island swarmin'
In Eastern seas.

The job nae doot will tak' some time
For jungle hills are ill to climb
But hardy Scots in fettle prime
And Yankee ardour
Will gar them rue the traitor crime
O' Pearl Harbour.

And when our planes in thoosands soar
As soon they will o'er Singapore
And we, at Yokohama's door
We sure will find
When Allied guns in earnest roar
They'll change their mind.

And since the task is well begun
It will, through time, complete be done
And the wee Demons made to run
Like hunted rabbits
And every yellow mothers son
Made mend their habits.

Then in the perfect world to be
For which we hae to wait and see
The hardest hit should first get free
The joy to share
And Nations henceforth a' agree
To fecht nae mair.

And then we'll a' can smoke cigars
And scrap our bikes for motor cars
And never mair resort to wars
For pledges broken
And every home hae private jars
The drooth to slocken.

But on the picture's other side
There's Tragedy comes hame to bide
Wounds---time can neither heal nor hide
War's aftermath
That rouses baith oor British pride
And bitter wrath.

Pride in that they hae played the game
And added lustre to their name
To shine a bright and glorious flame
Though herts keep callin'
For they who never will came hame
In battle fallen.

Endowed wi' courage nought could dim
They faced the foe in fightin' trim
In battles deidly, hard, and grim
That did imply
No lack o' bravery and vim
To do or die.

And mony a hert is sad and sair
When Silence borders on dispair
For fear they'll see their ain nae mair
When oh so fain
To see them in the vacant chair
Safe, hame again.