'''Annie Laurie'' Appeals.
'When the lilting voice of Mr. Frank Pearson rose in the clear, birdlike nots of ''Annie Laurie,'' though there was no thunderous chorus. There was only a low crooning accompaniment from the voices in the room; but it spoke eloquently of the intense appeal of the old Scotch song.
'There was also a little session out in the kitchen - a most exclusive affair was this. The six husky pipers who accompanied Mr. Lauder to the Burns cottage, Scotch every one of them from the ground up, slipped away from the crowd for ''a wee doch-an-doris'' before the entertainment was over. There was big blonde George Black, who beats the brass drum. (And believe us, he beats it like a Dutch windmill. It takes more room for George to his that drum that it takes to maneuver [sic] the entire Georgia state militia.) Will McMillan was there, and Bob Tully, the leader, and George Murray, and aleck McIntosh and Roderick Wilson - and Roderick Wilson's moustache!
'''A Wee Doch-an-Doris.''
'Now, if your name does not happen to have a ''Mac'' mixed up in it anywhere, you may not know that ''a wee doch-an-doris'' is the Scotch name for the last drink before going home. ''Drink'' does not refer to ice-cream soda, either. The expression means ''a little drink at the door.'' by the time the pipers had absorbed each about six last ''little drinks at the door,'' there was genuine Scotch spirit, besides that in the bottle, in evidence [of] the little kitchen session. Oh, no, of course, not as bad as all that - for every ''mither's son'' of them was able to sing with perfect precision that last little test line in the song about ''Ae brecht, brocht moolit nochte!''
'But at length must come an end to even the last doch-an-doris.
'As Mr. Lauder walked down the path through the pies to the roadway, the Atlanta Scots stood in front of the cottage and sang to him, ''Will Ye Nae Cam' Back Ag'in?'' the heartiness of this one song seemed to mean more to Mr. Lauder than anything else in the welcome extended him, and he stopped on the brow of the hill, took off his hat, and his voice echoed through the pines, ''Yes, I Will Come Back to Ye!'''
(The Atlanta Constitution, Atlanta, Georgia, Tuesday, 11 March 1913, p. 3d)
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