And we may laugh, but there's little of fun
In the bursting shell from a six-inch gun.
Oh! 'twas whistle and jest with the carbineers gay
As they cleaned their steeds at break of day,
But like a thunderclap there fell
In the midst of the horses and men a shell,
And the sight we saw was a fearful one
After that shell from the six-inch gun.
Though the foe may beset us on every side,
We'll furnish some cheer in this Christmastide;
We will laugh and be gay, but a tear will be shed
And a thought be given to the gallant dead,
Cut off in the midst of their life and fun
By the long-range, terrible six-inch gun.
ST. PATRICK'S DAY.
BY F. HARALD WILLIAMS.
Here's to the Isle of the Shamrock,
Here's a good English hurrah,
Luck to the Kelt upon kopje or veldt,
Erin Mavourneen gobragh.
The shamrock, the rose, and the thistle,
The shamrock, the rose, and the leek,
One where the bayonets bristle,
One when there's duty to seek.
Each has a need of each other,
Linked on the shore and the wave,
All for the sake of one Mother--
Honour the Brave.
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