74
WORK-A-DAY WARRIORS
Your hair is turned white; well, your hands are turned red
Wi' the blood ye ha' made men to spill;
I bayoneted one o' your blokes mysel'—
It was you that he cursed as his soul sped to hell!—
How d'ye like it, Bill?
Wi' the blood ye ha' made men to spill;
I bayoneted one o' your blokes mysel'—
It was you that he cursed as his soul sped to hell!—
How d'ye like it, Bill?
And when you shall stand at the Lord's Judgment Scat,
And the great Court is all hushed and still,
And the Angel Recording shall point to your scroll,
And God shall look right thro' your poor puny soul—
How will ye like it, Bill?
And the great Court is all hushed and still,
And the Angel Recording shall point to your scroll,
And God shall look right thro' your poor puny soul—
How will ye like it, Bill?
