Songs of the Cavaliers and Roundheads Jacobite Ballads, &c. &c. By George W. Thornbury ... with illustrations by H. S. Marks |
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HOW THE COLONEL TOOK IT!
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 | Songs of the Cavaliers and Roundheads |  |
315
HOW THE COLONEL TOOK IT!
(In Square.—An Affair in the Peninsula.)
We were standing foot to foot, and giving shoot for shoot,
Hot and strong went our volleys at the blue;
We knelt, but not for grace, and the fuse lit up the face
Of the gunner, as the round shot by us flew.
O the bugle it blew loud, the shot drove in a cloud,
And the bayonets of the boys were at play;
The old colonel, puffing fust, was almost like to bust,
With shouting, “Faugh a ballagh, clear a way!”
Hot and strong went our volleys at the blue;
We knelt, but not for grace, and the fuse lit up the face
Of the gunner, as the round shot by us flew.
O the bugle it blew loud, the shot drove in a cloud,
And the bayonets of the boys were at play;
The old colonel, puffing fust, was almost like to bust,
With shouting, “Faugh a ballagh, clear a way!”
Bedad! our steels were thick, and it made us mad, not sick,
To see the brave boys melting like the dew;
But the colours overhead, with a whirling gust of red,
Like a thunder cloud, above us fought and blew.
The colonel, he was blown, yet he struck up Garry Ow'n;
“I know who'll be tired first of this play;”
And every now and then, like a dragon from his den,
He outs with—“Faugh a ballagh, clear the way!”
To see the brave boys melting like the dew;
But the colours overhead, with a whirling gust of red,
Like a thunder cloud, above us fought and blew.
316
“I know who'll be tired first of this play;”
And every now and then, like a dragon from his den,
He outs with—“Faugh a ballagh, clear the way!”
My right hand man went down with a cut upon his crown,
Och! his bloody teeth were clenched with the pain;
And, bursting with a shout, all the Frenchmen rode about,
Slashing just like reapers at the grain.
“Let them pound, an hour or more they must wait outside the door!”
Cried the colonel, hot and savage with the play;
He shook the colour-staff with a shout and with a laugh,
Roaring out—“Faugh a ballagh, clear the way!”
Och! his bloody teeth were clenched with the pain;
And, bursting with a shout, all the Frenchmen rode about,
Slashing just like reapers at the grain.
“Let them pound, an hour or more they must wait outside the door!”
Cried the colonel, hot and savage with the play;
He shook the colour-staff with a shout and with a laugh,
Roaring out—“Faugh a ballagh, clear the way!”
With a hiss, and with a rush, and a will to pelt and crush,
Drove the bloody, tearing grape through our rank;
On leg, and arm, and brain, fell that sharp and bitter rain,
Yet we never winked a ha'porth, or yet shrank.
The drummers, all a heat, gave an angry, fretful beat,
As the wind blew the cannon smoke away;
“Och! the colonel, boys, is hit, yet beside the flag he'll sit,
Crying out, “Faugh a ballagh, clear the way!”
Drove the bloody, tearing grape through our rank;
317
Yet we never winked a ha'porth, or yet shrank.
The drummers, all a heat, gave an angry, fretful beat,
As the wind blew the cannon smoke away;
“Och! the colonel, boys, is hit, yet beside the flag he'll sit,
Crying out, “Faugh a ballagh, clear the way!”
Then we couldn't stand it longer, and our hot rage grew the stronger,
As we spread in a moment into line;
O colonel, true to you, on the cavalry we flew,
All our bayonets down together—it was fine.
We broke them like a net—la! our steel they never met,
And we drove them all in heaps on that day;
O the colonel fairly screeched to see Ney overreached,
And thundered, “Faugh a ballagh, clear the way!”
As we spread in a moment into line;
O colonel, true to you, on the cavalry we flew,
All our bayonets down together—it was fine.
We broke them like a net—la! our steel they never met,
And we drove them all in heaps on that day;
O the colonel fairly screeched to see Ney overreached,
And thundered, “Faugh a ballagh, clear the way!”
When the boys came back to rank, we found him on a bank,
Rather pale, with a cloth about his head;
He'd a bottle by his side, and full of honest pride,
I saw his cheek burn sudden with the red;
Then he grew so wan and weak, he couldn't hardly speak,
But I listened as the waggon drove away,
And may I die alone, if the boy we call our own
Didn't whisper, “Faugh a ballagh, clear the way!”
Rather pale, with a cloth about his head;
318
I saw his cheek burn sudden with the red;
Then he grew so wan and weak, he couldn't hardly speak,
But I listened as the waggon drove away,
And may I die alone, if the boy we call our own
Didn't whisper, “Faugh a ballagh, clear the way!”
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