The Drums of Battersea
They can't hear in West o' London, where the worst dine with the best —
Deaf to all save lies and laughter, they can't hear in London West —
Tailored brutes and splendid harlots, and the parasites that be —
They can't hear the warning thunder of the Drums of Battersea.
More drums! War drums!
Drums of Misery —
Beating from the hearts of men — the Drums of Battersea.
Where the hearses hurry ever, and where man lives like a beast,
They can feel the war-drums beating — men of Hell! and London East.
And the far-off foreign farmers, fighting fiercely to be free,
Found new courage in the echo of the Drums of Battersea.
More drums! War drums!
Beating for the free —
Beating on the hearts of men — the Drums of Battersea.
And the drummers! Ah! the drummers! — stern and haggard men are those
Standing grimly at their meetings; and their washed and mended clothes
Speak of worn-out wives behind them and of grinding poverty —
But the English of the English beat the Drums of Battersea!
More drums! War drums!
Drums of agony —
The big bruised heart of England's in the Drums of Battersea.
Where in fields slave Englishwomen, O the sound of drums is there:
I have heard it in the laughter of the nights of Leicester Square —
Sailing southward with the summer, London but a dream to me,
Still I feel the distant thunder of the Drums of Battersea!
More drums! War drums!
Drums of Liberty —
Rolling round the English world — the Drums of Battersea.
O I heard them in the Queen's Hall — aye! and London heard that night —
While we formed up round the leaders while they struck one blow for right!
And the old strength, that old fire, that I thought was dead in me,
Blazed up fiercely at the beating of the Drums of Battersea!
More drums! War drums!
They beat for victory —
When above the roar of Jingoes rolled the Drums of Battersea.
And where'er my feet may wander, and howe'er I lay my head,
I shall hear them while I'm dreaming — I shall hear them when I'm dead!
For they beat for men and women, beat for Christ, and you and me:
There is hope and there is terror in the Drums of Battersea!
More drums! War drums!
Drums of destiny —
There's hope! — there's hope for England in the Drums of Battersea.
Deaf to all save lies and laughter, they can't hear in London West —
Tailored brutes and splendid harlots, and the parasites that be —
They can't hear the warning thunder of the Drums of Battersea.
More drums! War drums!
Drums of Misery —
Beating from the hearts of men — the Drums of Battersea.
Where the hearses hurry ever, and where man lives like a beast,
They can feel the war-drums beating — men of Hell! and London East.
And the far-off foreign farmers, fighting fiercely to be free,
Found new courage in the echo of the Drums of Battersea.
More drums! War drums!
Beating for the free —
Beating on the hearts of men — the Drums of Battersea.
And the drummers! Ah! the drummers! — stern and haggard men are those
Standing grimly at their meetings; and their washed and mended clothes
Speak of worn-out wives behind them and of grinding poverty —
But the English of the English beat the Drums of Battersea!
More drums! War drums!
Drums of agony —
The big bruised heart of England's in the Drums of Battersea.
Where in fields slave Englishwomen, O the sound of drums is there:
I have heard it in the laughter of the nights of Leicester Square —
Sailing southward with the summer, London but a dream to me,
Still I feel the distant thunder of the Drums of Battersea!
More drums! War drums!
Drums of Liberty —
Rolling round the English world — the Drums of Battersea.
O I heard them in the Queen's Hall — aye! and London heard that night —
While we formed up round the leaders while they struck one blow for right!
And the old strength, that old fire, that I thought was dead in me,
Blazed up fiercely at the beating of the Drums of Battersea!
More drums! War drums!
They beat for victory —
When above the roar of Jingoes rolled the Drums of Battersea.
And where'er my feet may wander, and howe'er I lay my head,
I shall hear them while I'm dreaming — I shall hear them when I'm dead!
For they beat for men and women, beat for Christ, and you and me:
There is hope and there is terror in the Drums of Battersea!
More drums! War drums!
Drums of destiny —
There's hope! — there's hope for England in the Drums of Battersea.
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