Classic Poem

Upon the road to Romany
—It's stay, friend, stay!
There's lots o' love and lots o' time
—To linger on the way;
Poppies for the twilight,
—Roses for the noon,
It's happy goes as lucky goes
—To Romany in June.

But on the road to Rome—oh,
—It's march, man, march!
The dust is on the chariot wheels,
—The sere is on the larch,
Helmets and javelins
—And bridles flecked with foam—
The flowers are dead, the world's ahead
—Upon the road to Rome.

But on the road to Rome—ah,
—It's fight, man, fight!
Footman and horseman
—Treading left and right,
Camp-fires and watch-fires
—Ruddying the gloam—
The fields are gray and worn away
—Along the road to Rome.

Upon the road to Romany
—It's sing, boys, sing!
Though rag and pack be on our back
—We'll whistle to the King.
Wine is in the sunshine,
—Madness in the moon,
And de'il may care the road we fare
—To Romany in June.

Along the road to Rome, alas!
—The glorious dust is whirled,
Strong hearts are fierce to see
—The City of the World,
Yet footfall or bugle-call
—Or thunder as ye will,
Upon the road to Romany
—The birds are calling still!