IV. THE OLD SOLDIERS

By Edward Shanks

We come from dock and shipyard, we come from car and train,

We come from foreign countries to slope our arms again

And, forming fours by numbers or turning to the right,

We're learning all our drill again and‘ tis a pretty sight.

Our names are all unspoken, our regiments forgotten,

For some of us were pretty bad and some of us were rotten

And some will misremember what once they learnt with pain

And hit a bloody Serjeant and go to clink again.