The English knew it at Prestonpans—the wall against their backs,
When down the slope the clansmen came with the long Lochaber axe,
The dew on the grass and the morning mist and a roar of charging men,—
Pipers playing on either flank—
"Steady the volleys, the leading rank!"
The fires were blazing then.
And the spark has gone to Flanders, as the Prussian butchers know,
For they learnt at Loos and Hulluch from the Caledonian sword
The prayer of Anglo-Saxon priests a thousand years ago—
"From the fury of the Northern men, deliver us, O Lord."