They'll see sweet Highland Mary
Walk life's long path alone,
And hear dear Irish Nora
Wail for the loved ones gone.
They'll send a feather pillow
Or knit a pair of socks,
And think they've done their duty
By them that take the knocks.
Oh that our hearts were bigger,
And not so worldly wise;
'When duty calls, or danger;'
Ready to sacrifice.
WHAT OWEST THOU
February, 1915
In blood bought Belgian trenches,
On stormy Northern Sea,
Brave hearts of oak are watching,
Protecting you and me.
The British wife and mother,
The maid with sweetheart dear,
Lest those they love should falter
Hold back the scalding tear.
"Your King and Country need you,"
They say with courage high.
"Your fathers, too, were soldiers;
And not afraid to die."
Like fearless free born Britons,
Not Kaiser driven slaves,
Go heroes from the homeland
To unmarked foreign graves.
Shall we, with path made easy,
While others fight and fall,
In freedom's hour of danger
Neglect the Empire's call?
Shall we hoard up our dollars?
Shall farmers hold their wheat,
While children suffer hunger,
And workmen walk the street?
That land is doomed already
To black, unending night,
Whose old men worship money;
Whose young men will not fight.
Pages:
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26