Rhymes of a Red Cross Man | Page 4

of him -- not at all.?And yet I'll bet he was never afraid,?And he went as the best of 'em go,?For his hand was clenched on his broken blade,?And his face was turned to the foe.
And I called him a fool . . . oh how blind was I!?And the cup of my grief's abrim.?Will Glory o' England ever die?So long as we've lads like him??So long as we've fond and fearless fools,?Who, spurning fortune and fame,?Turn out with the rallying cry of their schools,?Just bent on playing the game.
A fool! Ah no! He was more than wise.?His was the proudest part.?He died with the glory of faith in his eyes,?And the glory of love in his heart.?And though there's never a grave to tell,?Nor a cross to mark his fall,?Thank God! we know that he "batted well"?In the last great Game of all.
The Volunteer
Sez I: My Country calls? Well, let it call.?I grins perlitely and declines wiv thanks.?Go, let 'em plaster every blighted wall,?'Ere's ONE they don't stampede into the ranks.?Them politicians with their greasy ways;?Them empire-grabbers -- fight for 'em? No fear!?I've seen this mess a-comin' from the days?Of Algyserious and Aggydear:
I've felt me passion rise and swell,?But . . . wot the 'ell, Bill? Wot the 'ell?
Sez I: My Country? Mine? I likes their cheek.?Me mud-bespattered by the cars they drive,?Wot makes my measly thirty bob a week,?And sweats red blood to keep meself alive!?Fight for the right to slave that they may spend,?Them in their mansions, me 'ere in my slum??No, let 'em fight wot's something to defend:?But me, I've nothin' -- let the Kaiser come.
And so I cusses 'ard and well,?But . . . wot the 'ell, Bill? Wot the 'ell?
Sez I: If they would do the decent thing,?And shield the missis and the little 'uns,?Why, even _I_ might shout "God save the King",?And face the chances of them 'ungry guns.?But we've got three, another on the way;?It's that wot makes me snarl and set me jor:?The wife and nippers, wot of 'em, I say,?If I gets knocked out in this blasted war?
Gets proper busted by a shell,?But . . . wot the 'ell, Bill? Wot the 'ell?
Ay, wot the 'ell's the use of all this talk??To-day some boys in blue was passin' me,?And some of 'em they 'ad no legs to walk,?And some of 'em they 'ad no eyes to see.?And -- well, I couldn't look 'em in the face,?And so I'm goin', goin' to declare?I'm under forty-one and take me place?To face the music with the bunch out there.
A fool, you say! Maybe you're right.?I'll 'ave no peace unless I fight.?I've ceased to think; I only know?I've gotta go, Bill, gotta go.
The Convalescent
. . . So I walked among the willows very quietly all night; There was no moon at all, at all; no timid star alight;?There was no light at all, at all; I wint from tree to tree, And I called him as his mother called, but he nivver answered me.
Oh I called him all the night-time, as I walked the wood alone; And I listened and I listened, but I nivver heard a moan;?Then I found him at the dawnin', when the sorry sky was red: I was lookin' for the livin', but I only found the dead.
Sure I know that it was Shamus by the silver cross he wore; But the bugles they were callin', and I heard the cannon roar. Oh I had no time to tarry, so I said a little prayer,?And I clasped his hands together, and I left him lyin' there.
Now the birds are singin', singin', and I'm home in Donegal, And it's Springtime, and I'm thinkin' that I only dreamed it all; I dreamed about that evil wood, all crowded with its dead,?Where I knelt beside me brother when the battle-dawn was red.
Where I prayed beside me brother ere I wint to fight anew:?Such dreams as these are evil dreams; I can't believe it's true. Where all is love and laughter, sure it's hard to think of loss . . . But mother's sayin' nothin', and she clasps -- A SILVER CROSS.
The Man from Athabaska
Oh the wife she tried to tell me that 'twas nothing but the thrumming Of a wood-pecker a-rapping on the hollow of a tree;?And she thought that I was fooling when I said it was the drumming Of the mustering of legions, and 'twas calling unto me;?'Twas calling me to pull my freight and hop across the sea.
And a-mending of my fish-nets sure I started up in wonder,?For I heard a savage roaring and 'twas coming from afar;?Oh the wife she tried to tell me that 'twas only summer thunder, And she laughed a bit sarcastic when I told her it was War; 'Twas the chariots of battle where the