Rakkety Tam

Armel shrugged. "I suppose so, Brother, but why do creatures have to fight?" Demple picked Mudge up and placed him on his shoulder. "Because there's always good and bad in the land, and goodbeasts have to protect their friends an' families from evil ones who want nothing but to conquer an' destroy.

Go find someone who will care for ye good, to sit quiet by yore side at the fire, an' if he treats ye decent as you hoped he would, you'll have all that your heart can desire.

Rakkety Rakkety Rakkety Tam, the drums are beatin' braw. Rakkety Rakkety Rakkety Tam, are ye marchin' off tae war?

When the sun slips o'er the treetops, then small birds fly off to nest. Feel the peace lie on the meadows, 'tis a time that I love best. Slumber on, little one, I am ever near. Drowsily, lean on me, dream small dreams, my dear. All the jewelled stars a-twinkle, Watch the clouds drift through the night. Sail upon thy boats of dreaming, to the rays of dawning's light. Slumber on, day is gone, by thy side I'll lay. Fear no harm, rest in calm, 'til the golden day.

Rakkety Rakkety Rakkety Tam, the drums are beatin’ braw. Rakkety Rakkety Rakkety Tam, are ye marchin’ off tae war? A warrior from the borders came, a buckler o’er his shoulder, a claymore swingin’ at his side, there’s no’ a beast who’s bolder! O Rakkety Tam has sold his sword, Ah scarce believe he’s done it. He swore an oath untae a fool, who took his pledge upon it!

When I joined the regiment my comrades said to me, there is one beast we fear more than the foe. An army marches on its stomach, so ’tis plain to see, that fool we call the cook has got to go! O the cook! O the cook! If words could kill, or just a dirty look, he’d have snuffed it long ago, turned his paws up doncha know, he’d be gladly written off the record book! What a greasy fat old toad, that assassin of the road, we tried to hire him to the enemy. But they smelt the stew he made, mercy on us they all prayed, we’ll surrender, you can have him back for free! O the cook! O the cook! He could poison a battalion with his chuck. I’ve seen him boilin’ cabbage, an’ the filthy little savage, takes a bath in it to wash off all the muck! He made a batch of scones, big grey lumpy solid ones, the Sergeant lost four teeth at just one bite. Then an officer ordered me, sling them at the enemy, an’ those that we don’t slay we’ll put to flight! O the cook! O the cook! He’s stirring porridge with his rusty hook. Playin’ hopscotch with the toast, he’s the one that we hate most, tonight we’re goin’ to roast that bloomin’ cook!” A