And took him round from bar to bar
And made him drunk—for England's sake.
That's how you helped him. Yesterday
Clear-eyed and earnest, keen and hard,
He held himself the soldier's way—
And now they've got him under guard.
That doesn't hurt you; you're all right;
Your easy conscience takes no blame;
But he, poor boy, with morning's light,
He eats his heart out, sick with shame.