"The War"
THERE is a sound of thunder afar,
Storm
in the south that darkens the day,
Storm of battle and thunder of
war,
Well,
if it do not roll our way.
Form! form! Riflemen form!
Ready, be ready to meet the
storm!
Riflemen, riflemen,
riflemen form!
Be not deaf to the sound that
warns!
Be
not gull'd by a despot's plea!
Are figs of thistles or grapes of
thorns?
How
should a despot set men free?
Form! form! Riflemen form!
Ready, be ready to meet the
storm!
Riflemen, riflemen,
riflemen form!
Let your Reforms for a moment go,
Look
to your butts and make good aims.
Better a rotten borough or so,
Than
a rotten fleet or a city of flames!
Form! form! Riflemen form!
Ready, be ready to meet
the storm!
Riflemen, riflemen,
riflemen form!
Form, be ready to do or die!
Form
in freedom's name and the Queen's!
True, that we have a faithful
ally,
But
only the devil knows what he means!
Form! form! Riflemen form!
Ready, be ready to meet the
storm!
Riflemen, riflemen,
riflemen form!
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