WHO's for the Gathering, who's for the Fair? (Gay goes the Gordon to a fight) The bravest of the brave are at deadlock there, (Highlanders! march! by the right!) There are bullets by the hundred buzzing in the air; There are bonny lads lying on the hillside bare; But the Gordons know what the Gordons dare When they hear the pipers playing! The happiest English heart to-day (Gay goes the Gordon to a fight) Is the heart of the Colonel, hide it as he may (Steady there! steady on the right!) He sees his work and he sees the way, He knows his time and the word to say, And he's thinking of the tune that the Gordons play When he sets the pipers playing! Rising, roaring, rushing like the tide, (Gay goes the Gordon to a fight) They're up through the fire-zone, not to be denied; (Bayonets! and charge! by the right!) Thirty bullets straight where the rest went wide, And thirty lads are lying on the bare hillside; But they passed in the hour of the Gordons' pride, To the skirl of the pipers' playing. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE YOUTH OF NATURE: WORDSWORTH'S COUNTRY by MATTHEW ARNOLD WITH WHOM IS NO VARIABLENESS, NEITHER SHADOW OF TURNING' by ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH OBERON'S FEAST by ROBERT HERRICK THE FOUNTAIN by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL LETTER TO MY SISTER by ANNE SPENCER |