THE TRUMPET OF BATTLE.
WHEN the trumpet's call to arms shall in Turkey's quarrel sound,
On the field of Europe's war shall John Bull be backward found?
No, by George! to the fray like a war-steed let him bound,
Prepared to fall or conquer, with expensive laurels crowned.
Our heroes like water their blood abroad shall pour;
Our money shall also be scattered as of yore:
We have done it oftentimes, and we'll do it yet once more,
Even though we get worse off than we ever got before.
Should the nations draw the sword, it will be a grand affair,
With "Now or Never Liberty!" for a cry to rend the air:
Sore loss, whichever way it goes, ourselves will have to bear,
But that we've made our minds up to, and therefore need not care.
'Tis hard in others' quarrels to be forced to interpose,
But point me out the craven base that hesitation shows,
And I'll punch his wretched head and wring his despicable nose,
Forward! no matter how we swell the debt the nation owes.
Let the sword leap from the scabbard while the frantic bugles bray,
Draw, England, draw the purse as well that must be flung away,
Charge! and in charging never think how much you'll have to pay;
To the Brave there will be time to talk of that another day!