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  • Recessional By Rudyard Kipling
    we forget lest we forget Far call d our navies melt away On dune and headland sinks the fire Lo all our pomp of yesterday Is one with Nineveh and Tyre Judge of the Nations spare us yet Lest we forget lest we forget If drunk with sight of power we loose Wild tongues that have not Thee in awe Such boasting as the Gentiles use Or lesser breeds without

    Original URL path: http://www.wargames.co.uk/Poems/recessional.htm (2016-02-16)
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  • The Plains of Waterloo
    plains near Waterloo But in bright array Britiana stood and viewed her sons that day And to her much loved heroes came and thus to them did say If you the wreath of laural twist from you usurper s brow To ages you all shall be called brave sons of Waterloo The bloody battle then began the cannon loud did roar But being short of cavalry they pressed on us full sore Three British cheers we gave to them with volleys not a few Which made them wish themselves in France and far from Waterloo More of Mark s work For full four hours and longer we sustained the bloody fray Then during a long weary night upon our arms we lay The orders of our General next day we did pursue And retired in files for full six miles on the plains of Waterloo This day both armies kept their ground and not a shot was fired The French did boast of victory because we had retired This noble act of genership them from their strongholds drew Then we had a share of fighting fair on the plains of Waterloo On the 18th in the morning both armies did advance On this side stood brave Albion s son on that the pride of France With the fate of Europe in our hands each man his sabre drew And death or victory was the word on the plains of Waterloo Then to the right they did advance Prince Jerome led the van With imperial guards and cuirassiers that though none could them stand The British steel soon made them yield though our numbers were but few We prisoners made but more lay dead and the rest like lightning flew Then to our left they bent their course in disappointed rage

    Original URL path: http://www.wargames.co.uk/Pending/Archive/Nov/plainsofwaterloo.htm (2016-02-16)
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  • Battalion of the Damned
    and the bullet in the back of the head at midnight We learned in the camps there was no place for pity or surrender in the guerilla war We were like rows and rows of unripened mealie corn strong and slender in the burning sunshine of an African day March Battalion March We marched South in 1978 to wash our bayonets in the blood of Smith s men in the Tribal Trust Lands of home In contact and running firefight we cried and died as the helicopter soldiers of the Rhodesian Army sought us out in relentless pursuit We were like rows and rows of shattered and strewn mealie corn devastated and torn in the splintered lightening of an African storm March Battalion March At wars end in December 1979 we camped at Assembly Place Lima with the New Zealand Peacemakers Tired and victorious we rested at Mhadlambudzi where we sang songs of revolution and cleaned our weapons after battle We were like rows and rows of sun jaded mealie corn lethargic and spent in the afternoon glow of an African sunset March Battalion March In April 1980 we advanced from our camp at Essexvale to fight against Mugabe s men at the Bulawayo Ambushed by remnants of the Rhodesia African Rifles our lead armour was struck by rockets and then the gunships fell upon us with their frightening sound and endless cannons We fell like rows and rows of ripened mealie corn harvested in blood and bullets in the red gloom of an African twilight March Battalion March How we died that day there at that dusty ambush outside of Bulawayo 800 Regulars and 200 Guerillas The lifeblood of our entire Battalion is now but a ghost from another African war Our bones lie like rows and rows of

    Original URL path: http://www.wargames.co.uk/Pending/Archive/Aug03/battalionothedamned.htm (2016-02-16)
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  • Qui Vive
    notes That streams like a pennant from a lance That rustles that floats The Flags of France What richly moves what lightly stirs Like a noble lady in a dance When all men s eyes are in love with hers And needs must follow The Flags of France What calls to the heart and the heart has heard Speaks and the soul has obeyed the word Summons and all the years advance And the world goes forward with France with France The Flags of France What flies a glory through the night While the legions stream a line of light And men fall to the left and fall to the right But they fall not The Flags of France Qui vive Who comes What approaches there What soundless tumult what breath in the air Takes the breath in the throat the blood from the heart In a flame of dark to the unheard beat Of an unseen drum and fleshless feet They approach they come Who comes Hush Hark Qui vive The Flags of France Uncover the head and kneel kneel down A monarch passes without a crown Let the proud tears fall but the heart beat high The Greatest

    Original URL path: http://www.wargames.co.uk/Pending/Archive/July03/quivive.htm (2016-02-16)
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  • Scout Pashkov
    stall Tell the truth you ll be free and there won t be a fuss Keep it back and you re dead that s all If they beat you to putty and throw you about I m telling you brother it hurts The price was so high but I figured it out And decided to take my deserts Then they twisted my arms once again and again And they battered my shoulders and back It isn t so nice to remember what then I don t want to remember the rack But the big guy he sees that the torture s the bunk So he figures he ll speed us the pace Shoves a spade in my hand Get going you skunk And they usher me out of the place There I dug m own bed in the earth with these hands While their rifle butts prodded for fun You can be a crap shot yet your bullets will land In a fellow who hasn t a gun Then they gathered around my bed in the ground And their shots at that range were a cinch The number of bullets I took in the face Was easily one to the inch I fell on my face in the hole I had made With a sizzling under my shirt An officer gave me a blow with a spade Where the lead in my shoulder blade hurt They dug me in tight and left me alone With that weight pushing down on my chest I wriggled a leg got a cramp in the bone Couldn t breathe for the clay as I guessed But to go and pass out in that grave what the hell Better flirt with your fate the old witch So I gathered the strength where from I can

    Original URL path: http://www.wargames.co.uk/Pending/Archive/May03/scoutpashkov.htm (2016-02-16)
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  • Marching Along
    score strong Great hearted gentlemen singing this song Hampden to Hell And his obsequies knell Serve Hazelrigg Fiennes and young Harry as well England good cheer Prince Rupert is near Kentish and loyalists keep we not here But go Marching along fifty score strong Great hearted gentlemen singing this song God for King Charles Pym and his snarls To the Devil that pricks on such pestilent carles Hold by the

    Original URL path: http://www.wargames.co.uk/Poems/Marchingalong/marchingalong.htm (2016-02-16)
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  • Johnny Boer  by Andrew Barton
    to others quiet Playing brag and rolling fags to pass away the Christmas night As we watched the German trenches something moved in no man s land Through the dark there came a soldier carrying a white flag in his hand Then from both sides men came running crossing into no man s land Through the barbed wire mud and shell holes shyly stood there shaking hands Fritz he brought cigars and brandy Tommy brought corned beef and fags And as they stood there quietly talking the moon shone down on no man s land Then Christmas Day we all played football in the mud of no man s land Tommy brought some Christmas pudding Fritz brought out a German band And when they beat us at the football we shared all our grub and drink Then Fritz showed me a tattered photo of a brown haired girl back in Berlin For four days after no side fired not one shot disturbed the night For old Fritz and Tommy Atkins they d both lost their will to fight So they withdrew us from the trenches sent us back behind the lines They brought fresh troops to take our places and

    Original URL path: http://www.wargames.co.uk/Poems/Christmas1914.htm (2016-02-16)
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  • Soldiers3
    shot whatever it is With never a penny of money We be soldiers three Pardona moy je vous an pree Lately come forth of the Low Country With never a penny of money Here good fellow I drink to thee Pardona moy je vous an pree To all good fellows wherever they be With never a penny of money And he that will not pledge me this Pardona moy je vous an pree Pays for the shot whatever it is With never a penny of money Charge it again boy charge it again Pardona moy je vous an pree As long as there is any ink in thy pen With never a penny of money Us Infantry on the march in Korea Just below the Manchurian border Korea is the spot We re due to spend our time here In the land that God forgot Down with the snakes and the lizards Down where all men are blue Right in the middle of nowhere Thousand of miles from you We sweat and we freeze and we shiver It s more than a man can bear We are not a bunch of convicts We are only doing our share We are

    Original URL path: http://www.wargames.co.uk/Poems/Soldiers3.htm (2016-02-16)
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web-archive-uk.com, 2016-10-23