Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE LAY OF THE LEGION, by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN



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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE LAY OF THE LEGION, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: When I was in the legion
Last Line: Like a regular poltroon!
Alternate Author Name(s): Bon Gaultier (with Theodore Martin)
Subject(s): Drinks & Drinking; Life; War; Wine


WHEN I was in the Legion
A short time ago,
We went the pace as pleasantly
As ever you did know:
The cares of life and warlike strife
Were all, I ween, forgot,
As we walked into the Sherry casks,
And never paid a shot,
For we bold lads of Evans'
Went roving with the moon --
Old Spain was made for the Newgate blade,
And for the stout Poltroon!

We wouldn't stand no drilling,
Oh, that was all my eye,
But did exactly as we pleased,
And kept our powder dry.
We always fired, when 'twas required,
Behind a vineyard fence:
But as for open cut-and-thrust,
We'd rather too much sense.
For we bold lads of Evans'
Marched to another tune,
And 'right about!' was still the shout
That moved the stout Poltroon!

How jolly looked the Convent!
And, blow me, what a din
The nuns and Lady Abbess made,
As we came thundering in!
What screams and squalls rung through the walls,
'Twas like to deafen me,
When our Captain took his helmet off,
And begged the cellar key!
Then we bold lads of Evans'
Got tipsy very soon, --
And if the brave will misbehave,
Why not a stout Poltroon?

O me, that glorious Legion!
If I were there again,
I would not leave an ounce of plate
In any house in Spain.
I'd fake away, the livelong day,
And drink till all was blue;
For a happier life I could not lead,
No more, my lads, could you,
Than to be a boy of Evans',
No milk-and-water spoon,
And crack the flasks and drain the casks
Like a regular Poltroon!





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