Songs of the Cavaliers and Roundheads Jacobite Ballads, &c. &c. By George W. Thornbury ... with illustrations by H. S. Marks |
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THE THREE SCARS. |
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 | Songs of the Cavaliers and Roundheads |  |
32
THE THREE SCARS.
This I got on the day that Goring
Fought through York, like a wild beast roaring—
The roofs were black, and the streets were full,
The doors built up with the packs of wool;
But our pikes made way through a storm of shot,
Barrel to barrel till locks grew hot;
Frere fell dead, and Lucas was gone,
But the drum still beat and the flag went on.
Fought through York, like a wild beast roaring—
The roofs were black, and the streets were full,
The doors built up with the packs of wool;
But our pikes made way through a storm of shot,
Barrel to barrel till locks grew hot;
Frere fell dead, and Lucas was gone,
But the drum still beat and the flag went on.
This I caught from a swinging sabre,
All I had from a long night's labour;
When Chester flamed, and the streets were red,
In splashing shower fell the molten lead,
The fire sprang up, and the old roof split,
The fire-ball burst in the middle of it;
With a clash and a clang the troopers they ran,
For the siege was over ere well began.
All I had from a long night's labour;
When Chester flamed, and the streets were red,
In splashing shower fell the molten lead,
The fire sprang up, and the old roof split,
The fire-ball burst in the middle of it;
With a clash and a clang the troopers they ran,
For the siege was over ere well began.
33
This I got from a pistol butt
(Lucky my head's not a hazel nut;)
The horse they raced, and scudded and swore;
There were Leicestershire gentlemen, seventy score;
Up came the “Lobsters,” covered with steel—
Down we went with a stagger and reel;
Smash at the flag, I tore it to rag,
And carried it off in my foraging bag.
(Lucky my head's not a hazel nut;)
The horse they raced, and scudded and swore;
There were Leicestershire gentlemen, seventy score;
Up came the “Lobsters,” covered with steel—
Down we went with a stagger and reel;
Smash at the flag, I tore it to rag,
And carried it off in my foraging bag.
| Songs of the Cavaliers and Roundheads | |