Songs of Action | Page 8

man that carries the gun!
For the Colonel rides before,
The Major's on the flank,
The Captains and the Adjutant
Are in the foremost rank.
But when it's 'Action front!'
And fighting's to be done,
Come one, come all, you stand or fall
By the man who holds the gun.
Who carries the gun?

A lad from a Yorkshire dale.
Then let him go, for well we know
The heart that never will fail.
Here's to the fire of Lancashire,
And here's to her soldier son!
For the hard-bit north has sent him
forth -
The lad that carries the gun.
Who carries the gun?
A lad from a Midland shire.
Then let him go, for well we know
He comes of an English sire.
Here's a glass to a Midland lass,
And each can choose the one,
But east and west we claim the best
For the man that carries the gun.
Who carries the gun?
A lad from the hills of Wales.
Then let him go, for well we know,
That Taffy is hard as nails.
There are several ll's in the place where he
dwells,
And of w's more than one,
With a 'Llan' and a 'pen,' but it breeds
good men,
And it's they who carry the gun.
Who carries the gun?
A lad from the windy west.
Then let him go, for well we know
That he is one of the best.
There's Bristol rough, and Gloucester
tough,

And Devon yields to none.
Or you may get in Somerset
Your lad to carry the gun.
Who carries the gun?
A lad from London town.
Then let him go, for well we know
The stuff that never backs down.
He has learned to joke at the powder
smoke,
For he is the fog-smoke's son,
And his heart is light and his pluck is
right -
The man who carries the gun.
Who carries the gun?
A lad from the Emerald Isle.
Then let him go, for well we know,
We've tried him many a while.
We've tried him east, we've tried him
west,
We've tried him sea and land,
But the man to beat old Erin's best
Has never yet been planned.
Who carries the gun?
It's you, and you, and you;
So let us go, and we won't say no
If they give us a job to do.
Here we stand with a cross-linked hand,
Comrades every one;
So one last cup, and drink it up
To the man who carries the gun!
For the Colonel rides before,

The Major's on the flank,
The Captains and the Adjutant
Are in the foremost rank.
And when it's 'Action front!'
And there's fighting to be done,
Come one, come all, you stand or fall
By the man who holds the gun.
A LAY OF THE LINKS
It's up and away from our work to-day,
For the breeze sweeps over the down;
And it's hey for a game where
the gorse blossoms flame,
And the bracken is bronzing to brown.
With the turf 'neath our tread
and the blue overhead,
And the song of the lark in the whin;
There's the flag and the green,
with the bunkers between -
Now will you be over or in?
The doctor may come, and we'll teach him to know
A tee where no tannin can lurk;
The soldier may come, and we'll
promise to show
Some hazards a soldier may shirk;
The statesman may joke, as he
tops every stroke,
That at last he is high in his aims;
And the clubman will stand with a
club in his hand
That is worth every club in St. James'.
The palm and the leather come rarely together,

Gripping the driver's haft,
And it's good to feel the jar of the steel
And the spring of the hickory shaft.
Why trouble or seek for the
praise of a clique?
A cleek here is common to all;
And the lie that might sting is a very
small thing
When compared with the lie of the ball.
Come youth and come age, from the study or stage,
From Bar or from Bench--high and low!
A green you must use as a
cure for the blues -
You drive them away as you go.
We're outward bound on a long,
long round,
And it's time to be up and away:
If worry and sorrow come back with
the morrow,
At least we'll be happy to-day.
THE DYING WHIP
It came from gettin' 'eated, that was 'ow the thing begun,
And 'ackin'
back to kennels from a ninety-minute run;
'I guess I've copped
brownchitis,' says I to brother Jack,
An' then afore I knowed it I was
down upon my back.
At night there came a sweatin' as left me deadly weak,
And my throat
was sort of tickly an' it 'urt me for to speak; An' then there came an
'ackin' cough as wouldn't leave alone, An' then afore I knowed it I was
only skin and bone
I never was a 'eavy weight. I scaled at seven four,
An' rode at eight,