Collected Poems 1897 - 1907 by Henry Newbolt
page 41 of 109 (37%)
page 41 of 109 (37%)
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(Gay goes the Gordon to a fight)
Is the heart of the Colonel, hide it as he may; (Steady there! steady on the right!) He sees his work and he sees his way, He knows his time and the word to say, And he's thinking of the tune that the Gordons play When he sets the pipers playing. Rising, roaring, rushing like the tide, (Gay goes the Gordon to a fight) They're up through the fire-zone, not be be denied; (Bayonets! and charge! by the right!) Thirty bullets straight where the rest went wide, And thirty lads are lying on the bare hillside; But they passed in the hour of the Gordons' pride, To the skirl of the pipers' playing. He Fell Among Thieves "Ye have robbed," said he, "ye have slaughtered and made an end, Take your ill-got plunder, and bury the dead: What will ye more of your guest and sometime friend?" "Blood for our blood," they said. He laughed: "If one may settle the score for five, I am ready; but let the reckoning stand til day: |
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