Poems (Kennedy)/Queen of Songs
QUEEN OF SONGS
THEY sang the new songs when they marched—
That Scotch and English host—
Down through the blossomed fields of France
Where stalked war's haggard ghost.
The new songs and the lilting airs
Of dance-halls left behind,
And rag-time of the cabarets
Filled every drifting wind.
That Scotch and English host—
Down through the blossomed fields of France
Where stalked war's haggard ghost.
The new songs and the lilting airs
Of dance-halls left behind,
And rag-time of the cabarets
Filled every drifting wind.
But in the trenches, watching foes
As lions watch their quarry,
They sang with serious lips and eyes
The old song, "Annie Laurie."
It fitted each dear homing thought
That was of life a part—
"Annie" was sweetheart, mother, wife,
With answer for each heart.
As lions watch their quarry,
They sang with serious lips and eyes
The old song, "Annie Laurie."
It fitted each dear homing thought
That was of life a part—
"Annie" was sweetheart, mother, wife,
With answer for each heart.
For through the lapse of many wars
Where Right has battled Wrong,
The lyric of the Scottish hills
Has been the soldiers' song.
They sang it with the "Iron Duke"
On Waterloo's red plain,
And waked Crimean echoes up
With its sweet, haunting strain.
Where Right has battled Wrong,
The lyric of the Scottish hills
Has been the soldiers' song.
They sang it with the "Iron Duke"
On Waterloo's red plain,
And waked Crimean echoes up
With its sweet, haunting strain.
And when they marched the Afric sands,
Outnumbered man to man,
They sang it, face to face with death,
With Kitchener in Soudan.
And so today "the fairest face"
Comes to the soldiers' dream
On music of the drifting tune
Where allied banners stream.
Outnumbered man to man,
They sang it, face to face with death,
With Kitchener in Soudan.
And so today "the fairest face"
Comes to the soldiers' dream
On music of the drifting tune
Where allied banners stream.