Oonts
Wot makes the soldier’s ‘eart to penk, wot makes ‘im to perspire? It isn’t standin’ up to charge nor lyin’ down to fire; But it’s everlastin’ waitin’ on a everlastin’ road For the commissariat
Song of the Fifth River
“The Treasure and the Low” Puck of Pook’s Hills. Where first by Eden Tree The Four Great Rivers ran, To each was appointed a Man Her Prince and Ruler to be. But after this
A Pict Song
Rome never looks where she treads. Always her heavy hooves fall On our stomachs, our hearts or our heads; And Rome never heeds when we bawl. Her sentries pass on that is all, And
Cleared
Help for a patriot distressed, a spotless spirit hurt, Help for an honourable clan sore trampled in the dirt! From Queenstown Bay to Donegal, O listen to my song, The honourable gentlemen have suffered
A Three-Part Song
I’m just in love with all these three, The Weald and the Marsh and the Down country. Nor I don’t know which I love the most, The Weald or the Marsh or the white
"Birds of Prey" March
March! The mud is cakin’ good about our trousies. Front! eyes front, an’ watch the Colour-casin’s drip. Front! The faces of the women in the ‘ouses Ain’t the kind o’ things to take aboard
The Dead King
(EDWARD VII.) 1910 Who in the Realm to-day lays down dear life for the sake of a land more dear? And, unconcerned for his own estate, toils till the last grudged sands have run?
The Ballad of the "Bolivar"
Seven men from all the world, back to Docks again, Rolling down the Ratcliffe Road drunk and raising Cain: Give the girls another drink ‘fore we sign away We that took the Bolivar out
Harp Song of the Dane Women
What is a woman that you forsake her, And the hearth-fire and the home-acre, To go with the old grey Widow-maker? She has no house to lay a guest in But one chill bed
Brookland Road
I was very well pleased with what I knowed, I reckoned myself no fool Till I met with a maid on the Brookland Road, That turned me back to school. Low down-low down! Where
The City of Sleep
“The Brushwood Boy” The Day’s Work Over the edge of the purple down, Where the single lamplight gleams, Know ye the road to the Merciful Town That is hard by the Sea of Dreams
The Grave of the Hundered Head
There’s a widow in sleepy Chester Who weeps for her only son; There’s a grave on the Pabeng River, A grave that the Burmans shun, And there’s Subadar Prag Tewarri Who tells how the
The Servant When He Reigneth
Three things make earth unquiet And four she cannot brook The godly Agur counted them And put them in a book Those Four Tremendous Curses With which mankind is cursed; But a Servant when
Seal Lullaby
Oh! hush thee, my baby, the night is behind us And black are the waters that sparkled so green. The moon, O’er the combers, looks downward to find us At rest in the hollows
Anchor Song
Heh! Walk her round. Heave, ah heave her short again! Over, snatch her over, there, and hold her on the pawl. Loose all sail, and brace your yards back and full Ready jib to