SONG OF THE WHITE COMPANY by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE

WE are troopers brave and bold
With the silver-prancing steeds,
And our helmets gleam with gold
O'er the shining English meads.
Oh, flashing our sabres high
We thunder across the fields,
And the motto, "We dare to die,"
Is graven upon our shields.
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Hear the beat, beat, beat of our horses on the highway,
And the jangle and the clanging of our spurs,
See the swift love-glance of the maiden in the by-way,
She is singling out the trooper she prefers;
Purple plumes and flags a-dancing when we ride upon parade,
There is shouting when the cavalry they see;
For the people have acclaimed us as the best of the brigade,
And they cheer for the White Company.
We are dauntless men of war,
Awaiting the wild alarms,
For we love the field of gore
And the clanging call to arms,
We sweep to the smoking front,
With a shout and song we go,
And our good blades bear the brunt
Of the hot fight with the foe.

We have swept o'er farm and fen
Of many a foreign strand,
And our name is feared of men
In the lore of every land,
We start at the bugle call
As fleet as a bird on wing,
And we're ready to fight and fall
For the honor of the king.

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