SONG FOR A SCOTCH DUKE.
Reading edition
My harts in the Highlands shall have their hills clear, My harts in the Highlands no serf shall come near— I'll chase out the Gael to make room for the roe, My harts in the Highlands were ever his foe.
Things no Highlander can Understand. Breaches of promise.
HEBRIDEAN SPORT
Shooting Tenant (accounting for very large species of grouse which his setter has just flushed). "Capercailzie! By George!"
Under-keeper Neil. "I'm after thinking, sir, you'll have killed Widow McSwan's cochin cock. Ye see the crofters were forced to put him and the hens away out here till the oats is ripe!"
LATEST FROM THE MOORS
Intelligent Foreigner. "Tell me—zee 'Ilanders, do zay always wear zee raw legs?"