The Poetical Works of James Thomson The City of Dreadful Night: By James Thomson ("B. V."): Edited by Bertram Dobell: With a Memoir of the Author: In two volumes |
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THE JOLLY VETERANS |
 | The Poetical Works of James Thomson |  |
427
THE JOLLY VETERANS
Come rest, come rest, my leal old friends,
Loll at ease round the old round table;
Now the sun descends and our duty ends,
We'll have mirth as long as we're able.
Loll at ease round the old round table;
Now the sun descends and our duty ends,
We'll have mirth as long as we're able.
Chorus.
Then for all the rich blood we have ever outpouredLet us pour in the red wine fairly;
Though our hands have warred till weak for the sword,
They can wield round the wine-cup rarely.
We have marched, we have fought, in the sweltry sun
All the day since reveillé's blaring;
Now the march is done and the field is won
We've a right to rest and good faring.
All the day since reveillé's blaring;
Now the march is done and the field is won
We've a right to rest and good faring.
Then for all, &c.
See a rich warm light in the west still glows
Though the sun has sunk before us,
Though the grey shades close on the earth's repose,
And the black night gathers o'er us.
Though the sun has sunk before us,
Though the grey shades close on the earth's repose,
And the black night gathers o'er us.
Then for all, &c.
428
Though our voices break as our songs we troll,
Though our eyes and our limbs fail weary,
Let each trusty soul have his pipe and his bowl,
And the last few hours shall be cheery.
Though our eyes and our limbs fail weary,
Let each trusty soul have his pipe and his bowl,
And the last few hours shall be cheery.
Then for all, &c.
Till the thick night wraps both the vale and the steep
Where through bad luck and good we fought fair, boys;
Till we sink in the deep, in the long still sleep,
Which shall drown all troubles and care, boys.
Where through bad luck and good we fought fair, boys;
Till we sink in the deep, in the long still sleep,
Which shall drown all troubles and care, boys.
Then for all, &c.
And what reck we, when that sleep is out,
What may come with the dawn of the morrow?
We shall rise fresh and stout, with the old hearts, no doubt,
To confront toil and danger and sorrow.
What may come with the dawn of the morrow?
We shall rise fresh and stout, with the old hearts, no doubt,
To confront toil and danger and sorrow.
Then for all, &c.
1857.
| The Poetical Works of James Thomson | |