Classic Poem

Said Paul Leroy to Barrow,
" Though the breach is steep and narrow,
If we only gain the summit
Then it's odds we hold the fort.
I have ten and you have twenty,
And the thirty should be plenty,
With Henderson and Henty
And McDermott in support. "

Said Barrow to Leroy,
" It's a solid job, my boy,
For they've flanked it, and they've banked it,
And they've bored it with a mine.
But it's only fifty paces
Ere we look them in the faces;
And the men are in their places,
With their toes upon the line. "

Said Paul Leroy to Barrow,
" See that first ray, like an arrow,
How it tinges all the fringes
Of the sullen drifting skies.
They told me to begin it
At five-thirty to the minute,
And at thirty-one I'm in it,
Or my sub will get his rise.

" So we'll wait the signal rocket,
Till ... Barrow, show that locket,
That turquoise-studded locket,
Which you slipped from out your pocket
And are pressing with a kiss!
Turquoise-studded, spiral-twisted,
It is hers! And I had missed it
From her chain; and you have kissed it:
Barrow, villain, what is this? "

" Leroy, I had a warning,
That my time has come this morning,
So I speak with frankness, scorning
To deny the thing that's true.
Yes, it's Amy's, is the trinket,
Little turquoise-studded trinket,
Not her gift — oh, never think it!
For her thoughts were all for you.

" As we danced I gently drew it
From her chain — she never knew it,
But I love her — yes, I love her:
I am candid, I confess.
But I never told her, never,
For I knew 'twas vain endeavour,
And she loved you — loved you ever,
Would to God she loved you less! "

" Barrow, Barrow, you shall pay me!
Me, your comrade, to betray me!
Well I know that little Amy
Is as true as wife can be.
She to give this love-badged locket!
She had rather ... Ha, the rocket!
Hi, McDougall! Sound the bugle!
Yorkshires, Yorkshires, follow me! "
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Said Paul Leroy to Amy,
" Well, wifie, you may blame me,
For my passion overcame me,
When he told me of his shame;
But when I saw him lying,
Dead amid a ring of dying,
Why, poor devil, I was trying
To forget, and not to blame.

" And this locket, I unclasped it
From the fingers that still grasped it;
He told me how he got it,
How he stole it in a valse. "
And she listened leaden-hearted:
Oh, the weary day they parted!
For she loved him — yes, she loved him —
For his youth and for his truth,
And for those dying words, so false.