the whistle—a bald
i sing of a whistle, a whistle of worth,
i sing of a whistle, the pride of the north.
was brought to the court of ood scottish king,
and long with this whistle all sd shall ring.
old loda, still rueing the arm of fingal,
the god of the bottle sends down from his hall—
“the whistle's your challeo sd get o'er,
and drink them to hell, sir! or ne'er see me more!”
old poets have sung, and old icles tell,
what champiour'd, what champions fell:
the son of great loda was queror still,
and blew on the whistle their requiem shrill.
The Whistle—A Ballad(1/6)