Captain Theodore Goodridge Roberts
Oh, slow our feet are tramping, and the bitter dust drifts
up. Oh, slow our hearts are beating, and bitter is the cup.
Then . ,
Thuds the big drum,
Come.
And quick and high and sharp and thin the fifes cry out
to me, Come out, come up and serve your King in the red
fields over-sea;
Stand up, stand out for Freedom, in this distressful day, For they strike at all you have and love, four thousand
miles away.
STEADY they come, as those who had come in the morn ing, Unshaken they passed where the bursting barrage was
set; They passed their victorious comrades; they passed to
their goal
The machine-gunned houses and gardens of Courcel- lette.
Into and through it, they flamed like fire through stubble ; With death before them, behind them, and swift in the
air,
They struck stark fear to the hearts of the craven foe- men; With bomb and steel they dug the Boche from his lair.
September the Fifteenth. That was a day of glory, With blood, with life, they captured the fortress town;
While far away, in the dear land they died for, In frosty coverts the red leaves fluttered down.
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