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This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by Vijiha Bashir, at 麻豆官网首页入口 Scotland on behalf of J.Moran from Glasgow and has been added to the site with the permission of Johnstone History Society. The author fully understands the site鈥檚 terms and conditions.

As they marched forward toward the foe
Young Lachie on his pipes did blow鈥�
He played so well on that fine day,
That they鈥檇 have marched through Hell they say.
The enemy then came into sight
But soon they put them into flight,
For as there cannons roared and crashed,
With bayonets fixed at them the dashed.
And all the time above the fray
They could hear young Lachie play.

He played鈥� Blue Bonnets o鈥檈r the Border鈥�
As the enemy ran in full disorder.
The battles o鈥檈r they鈥檝e done there best,
Time to stop and have a rest.
But what was that the Sergeant said?
That young Lachie he is dead!
He was the very first to die.
But who played the pipes? The men did cry
The Sergeant shrugged and turned to go, said
That鈥檚 one thing we鈥檒l never know.
But there鈥檚 one thing on which I鈥檒l swear,
Those pipes did play for I was there.

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