BOOT, boot into the stirrup, lads, And hand once more on rein; Up, up into the saddle, lads, A-field we ride again: One cheer, one cheer for dame or dear, No leisure now to sigh, God bless them all -- we have their prayers, And they our hearts -- "Good-bye!" Off, off we ride, in reckless pride, As gallant troopers may, Who have old scores to settle, and Long slashing swords to pay. The trumpet calls -- "trot out, trot out," -- We cheer the stirring sound; Swords forth, my lads -- through smoke and dust We thunder o'er the ground. Tramp, tramp, we go through sulphury clouds, That blind us while we sing, -- Woe worth the knave who follows not The banner of the King; But luck befall each trooper tall, That cleaves to saddle-tree, Whose long sword carves on rebel sconce, The rights of Majesty. Spur on, my lads; the trumpet sounds Its last and stern command -- "A charge! a charge!" -- an ocean burst Upon a stormy strand. Ha! ha! how thickly on our casques Their pop-guns rattle shot; Spur on, my lads, we'll give it them As sharply as we've got. Now for it: -- now, bend to the work -- Their lines begin to shake; Now, through and through them -- bloody lanes Our flashing sabres make! "Cut one -- cut two -- first point," and then We'll parry as we may; On, on the knaves, and give them steel In bellyfuls to-day. Hurrah! hurrah! for Church and State, For Country and for Crown, We slash away, and right and left Hew rogues and rebels down. Another cheer! the field is clear, The day is all our own; Done like our sires, -- done like the swords God gives to guard the Throne! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SHRUBBERY, WRITTEN IN A TIME OF AFFLICTION by WILLIAM COWPER THE ARTILLERYMAN'S VISION by WALT WHITMAN WHEN by SARAH CHAUNCEY WOOLSEY TO JOHN DRYDEN, ESQ.; POET LAUREATE AND HISTOGRAPHER ROYAL by PHILIP AYRES THE PILGRIM by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD MAIDEN'S CHOICE by CAROLYN M. BARBER |