 | The Collected Poems of T. W. H. Crosland |  |
142
Come Young Lads First
Sergeant went a-walking
Wi' ribbons in his cap,
“Ho-ho,” says he, “His Majesty
Wants just another chap,
An' as 'tis plain, for married men
He no more cares a rap,
Come young lads first!”
Wi' ribbons in his cap,
“Ho-ho,” says he, “His Majesty
Wants just another chap,
An' as 'tis plain, for married men
He no more cares a rap,
Come young lads first!”
Wherefore the bairn I suckled
Goes now in khaki drest;
So young is he, that he med be
Still cosy from my breast;
But he marches with his chin up
An' his chest out, like the rest,
Come young lads first!
Goes now in khaki drest;
So young is he, that he med be
Still cosy from my breast;
But he marches with his chin up
An' his chest out, like the rest,
Come young lads first!
Old Squire says, “Oh yes, oh yes,
'Twill do him worlds of good”;
An' parson says that losing bairns
If rightly understood
Is blessed, an' 'tis sweet, he says,
For th' King to shed your blood—
Come young lads first!
'Twill do him worlds of good”;
An' parson says that losing bairns
If rightly understood
Is blessed, an' 'tis sweet, he says,
For th' King to shed your blood—
Come young lads first!
143
“Abram,” he says, “gave Isaac,
As writ in Holy Word,
An' Mary broke the precious box
At the feet of our dear Lord;
So you must give your boy,” he says,
“To carry England's sword,
Come young lads first!”
As writ in Holy Word,
An' Mary broke the precious box
At the feet of our dear Lord;
So you must give your boy,” he says,
“To carry England's sword,
Come young lads first!”
They speak you fair do gentlemen,
But not more fair or free
Than my young son, who's just the one
His father used to be;
And when I said he med get killed
He angers up at me,
“Come young lads first!”
But not more fair or free
Than my young son, who's just the one
His father used to be;
And when I said he med get killed
He angers up at me,
“Come young lads first!”
For he's no lad that hides his mind
An' he's no lad that feigns;
An' while he spoke my heart came back
As easy of its pains
As when his father courted me
Along the scented lanes—
Come young lads first!
An' he's no lad that feigns;
An' while he spoke my heart came back
As easy of its pains
As when his father courted me
Along the scented lanes—
Come young lads first!
A woman has her love (it is
Her glory and her crown)
Which many waters cannot quench
An' the great floods cannot drown;
But men have that which passes love
When they hear the bugles blown—
Come young lads first!
Her glory and her crown)
Which many waters cannot quench
An' the great floods cannot drown;
But men have that which passes love
When they hear the bugles blown—
Come young lads first!
144
An' so the bairn I suckled
Goes now in khaki drest,
So young is he, that he med be
Still cosy from my breast;
An' he marches with his chin up
An' his chest out, like the rest—
Come young lads first!
Goes now in khaki drest,
So young is he, that he med be
Still cosy from my breast;
An' he marches with his chin up
An' his chest out, like the rest—
Come young lads first!
| The Collected Poems of T. W. H. Crosland | |