 | English Roses |  |
THE THIN RED LINE.
Closer up, Tommy, stand
To the colours and strike
For the Queen and our country and all;
Give them hell out of hand,
If we suffer alike—
We will conquer them yet, though we fall,
Let them boast of their numbers and strength,
And feel certain to win
With the odds and their swagger at length,
And as devils environ;
We will merely go in,
With hot blood and cold iron.
To the colours and strike
For the Queen and our country and all;
Give them hell out of hand,
If we suffer alike—
We will conquer them yet, though we fall,
Let them boast of their numbers and strength,
210
With the odds and their swagger at length,
And as devils environ;
We will merely go in,
With hot blood and cold iron.
Rally round the old flag,
Tommy, bracing your powers
To hit hard for its honour and fame;
Ravelled down to a rag
By the bullets in showers,
But unvanquished and flying the same.
They shall get a good belly full now
And a gorier bed,
Than they wanted who thought we would bow;
Through the smoke and its mazes,
With sheer powder and lead
Reaping death and red blazes
Tommy, bracing your powers
To hit hard for its honour and fame;
Ravelled down to a rag
By the bullets in showers,
But unvanquished and flying the same.
They shall get a good belly full now
And a gorier bed,
Than they wanted who thought we would bow;
Through the smoke and its mazes,
With sheer powder and lead
Reaping death and red blazes
Fill in, Tommy, the blanks
Made by shell and the shot
That we would not escape if we might;
They may riddle our ranks,
It is part of the lot
For a soldier and duty's delight.
Send it home, every ball, every thrust,
Knock their line out of joint
And their noses as well in the dust;
Let's agree just to differ
At the bayonet's point,
And leave some of them stiffer.
Made by shell and the shot
That we would not escape if we might;
They may riddle our ranks,
It is part of the lot
For a soldier and duty's delight.
Send it home, every ball, every thrust,
Knock their line out of joint
And their noses as well in the dust;
Let's agree just to differ
At the bayonet's point,
And leave some of them stiffer.
If they are ten to one,
Tommy, think of the glee
When the fighting is over and past;
Work remains to be done,
While our England is free
And a wrong to redress-though the last.
They are breaking before our firm face,
And their regiments reel
As we lock in a deadly embrace;
They grow weak, we wax bolder;
Steady now, and blue steel
Straight and true from the shoulder.
Tommy, think of the glee
When the fighting is over and past;
Work remains to be done,
While our England is free
And a wrong to redress-though the last.
They are breaking before our firm face,
And their regiments reel
As we lock in a deadly embrace;
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Steady now, and blue steel
Straight and true from the shoulder.
| English Roses | |