TAM O' THE SCOOTS
drum into him at close range an' the puir feller side-slippit an' nose-dived. Noo was it Freetz, then? Weel, weel!"
"We want you to take a wreath over—he'll be buried at Ludezeel."
"With the verra greatest pleasure," said Tam heartily, "and if ye'll no mind, Captain, A'd like to compose a wee vairse to pit in the box."
For two hours Tam struggled heroically with his composition. At the end of that time he produced with awkward and unusual diffidence a poem written in his sprawling hand and addressed:
Dedication to Mr. Von Sidlits
By Tam of the Scouts
"I'll read you the poem, Captain Blackie, sir-r," said Tam nervously, and after much coughing he read:
A graund an' nooble clood
Was the flyin' hero's shrood
Who dies at half-past seven
And he verra well desairves
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