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Ebenezer Bain
War Poems and Songs

01 Victory
02 The Calling Voice
03 Inhumanity
04 William the Brute
05 Sir Douglas Haig
06 The Standard
07 “Peace Without Victory..Never"
08 Freedom's Combine
09 Kruger and the Boer War
10 The March of the Highland Brigade




NOW, O weary world, rejoice!
Sing aloud with cheerful voice !
This dread tragedy and strife,
Hellish sacrifice of life,
Dreadful years of doubt and fear,
Dark forebodings, sad and drear,
Cruel, heartless, fiendish crime,
Unknown through the lapse of time,
Seem as if about to close,
With disaster to our foes.

Oh! ye haughty German race,
Crafty, bloody, mean and base;
You are doomed to weep and howl,
Gnash your teeth in rage, and growl.
Where are now your men of might?
What of scientific light?
Or anent the mailed fist
That you have so fondly kissed?
Know that all your schemes are vain,
Though your millions you have slain.

Kaiser! list to what I say,
For you must you can't say nay:
You will pay the cost in full
Of your madness and misrule.
No more palace now for you,
Darkest dungeon is your due;
Or the gallows you may grace,
Fitting end for all your race.
All true men your name now scorn;
Better had you ne'er been born.

Freemen have no need to fear,
Or the man with conscience clear;
Liberty, and Truth, and Right,
Are worth more than mailed might.
So let Hohenzollern fall,
Hindenburg, and Turk, and all,
Bag and baggage, off they go;
None will mourn the dastard foe.
Democracy! o'er all the world,
Quickly be your flag unfurled !

"Now's the day, and now's the hour,'
Warlords must be swept from power;
Prisoners taste a sweet release,
All the world a lasting peace;
Nations banded, hand in hand,
Shall unite and firmly stand ;
Patriots shall win the day,
Rebels will have naught to say,
Once more, weary world, rejoice!
Victory shout with cheerful voice!



(Tune: "Beautiful Isle of Somewhere")

HARK to the voice that's calling,
Calling to you and me.
Help, for good men are falling,
Fighting for liberty.

Send men! Send men! Send them across the sea,
Help in the fight 'gainst brutal might,
The Huns of Germany.

List to the voice that's pleading,
Pleading with you and me,
To help them and comrades bleeding
For peace and liberty.

Send men! Send men! and send them speedily;
Help us to fight 'gainst Prussian might,
The Huns of Germany.



Oh, Inhumanity! thou art the cause
Of nearly all the ills and woes of man ;
Vaunting ambition knows no bounds or laws :
As history's pages show since time began.
Neros, Macbeths, and Alexanders rise,
And act their parts upon the world's wide stage,
As if there were no Power above the skies
To intervene in this or any age,
Or stay the hand of man's inhuman rage.

The Hohenzollern, in his haughty pride,
Burst with his legions on a peaceful world ;
All o'er the fruitful fields and vineyards wide
Of Belgium and fair France his squadrons hurl'd.
With hellish haste, their foot and horsemen fly,
Like wolves upon a quiet, peaceful fold,
And strike like cyclone from a cloudless sky,
A crime so foul as never yet was told,
In modern times or in the days of old.

Oh, Mercy! where wert thou, that day the Hun,
With all his host of plunderers came down
Upon a world at peace, while smiled the sun?
Why did not lightnings flash and thunders frown?
Ye sages wise, who study hard to scan
The mysteries of heaven's decree: Is't fate?
Or is't the inhumanity of man
'Gainst which a weary world must fight or wait?
For peace must come, altho' it come so late.

'Twill come by union of the nations free,
Democracy, if wise, will win the day;
And manhood's worth, o'er all the world shall be
The lever power to govern, yea or nay.
Men yet unborn shall from the womb of time
Arise to fire their fellowmen aright,
Inspiring men o'er all the world to climb,
But not to kill their brother man in fight,
And search for truth by scientific light.



Dread monster! can'st thou still live on, nor see
The spectres and the ghosts that stare on thee?
Or in thy dreams (if thou can'st sleep at all),
Shut out the widow's wail, or orphan's call.
Does not thy sordid soul (if thou hast one)
Recoil in horror at what thou hast done?
The blackest records in the book of time,
Till now, foul fiend ! could not compare to thine,
Hell-hound! had'st thou not breathed the breath of life,
This world had never seen this awful strife.

"The day" was planned full many years ago,
With all the craft and cunning Germans know;
You sent your sleuth-hound spies to friendly lands,
To sneak and spy and lie by your commands.
With hell-brewn gas, and submarines, you slay
Helpless old age, women, and maidens gay.
You are so steeped in villainy and crime,
No power could cleanse, or waters of the Rhine.

"The day" has come, a foul black day for you,
That, while you live, you'll never cease to rue.
Braggart, blasphemer, hypocrite, and fool,
You prate of God as partner or as tool.
Go! Holy Will, but hear the truth I tell,
There's no place left for you in heaven or hell,
Go hang thyself, like Judas, worse than he;
Quick! hie thee to the gallows, or the tree.

So perish all the Hohenzollern race,
That poor humanity may rest in peace.




A Sonnet.

Great Britain's champion, the valiant Haig,
Leading her sons through hell to victory ;
Bravest of Scots, and strong as "Ailsa Craig,"
To quell the might and spite of Germany.
For four long years, with patient fortitude,
An adamantine will, that would not yield;
You, and your splendid men, have firmly stood
'Gainst countless hordes on every battlefield.
Brave deeds of ancient Greece and Rome are told,
But none more brave than yours could ever be,
Fit to be writ on lines of burnished gold,
That generations yet unborn may see.
Heroic chief, an empire honours you,
To rank among her best, the leal and true.



(Tune: "The Standard on the Braes o' Mar" )

The standard's up, and proudly waves
Defiance straight and squarely;
The gauntlet's flung to German knaves,
A fight for freedom fairly.
Our cause is just, and win we must,
We need not fear or falter;
Nor German bluff nor German lust
Our purpose firm can alter.

The German lords may screech- and cry,
They're welcome to it clearly;
But by yon flag that's waving high,
They'll pay the piper dearly.
For this our cry, we'll do or die,
We'll break the bonds of slavery;
Their might and boasting we defy,
And all their crooked knavery.

Enough, enough of German spies,
Of German might and Kultur;
And German crime, and German lies,
As cruel as the vulture.
So now we dare, and now we swear
To stand or fall together;
Ye German vampires, then, beware,
For break this vow we'll never.



(Tune: "Where is Now the Merry Party?")

When this fiendish war is ended,
When the Kaiser has been slain ;
When the war-dogs have expended
All their devilish schemes in vain;
When the madness and vain-glory
Of the bloody men of war
Shall be writ in History's story,
To their shame for evermore.

But till then, we'll never, never,
Never lay our broadswords down ;
Till the Prussian power for ever
Shall be crushed and overthrown.
Till the German lust of Empire
Shall no more menace the world,
The 'All-Highest', as a vampire,
From his lofty throne be hurled.

Then let the men of every nation
In a bond of peace agree ;
Band together for salvation,
From war ever to be free.
"Peace on Earth!" "God save the People!"
And the Brotherhood of Man,
Shout aloud from tower and steeple,
Liberty! Lead on the van!


(Tune: "Bonnie Dundee")

Well banded together, and clasped hand in han',
Great Britain, America, France and Japan,
May that league ne'er be broken, but still stronger grow
As pledge, bloody battles and warlords must go.

The flag of the free, Oh! see it unfurl 'd,
The Standard of hope to a war- weary world;
That Kaisers, and junkers, and tyrants may see,
All nations and peoples combine to be free.

Too long have the people been treated as slaves
By lordlings and emperors, no better than knaves;
But the limit has come, and man, like the worm,
That's crushed under foot, on the spoiler will turn.

The flag of the free! ever be it unfurl'd,
The standard of hope to a war- weary world;
That Kaisers, and junkers, and tyrants may see,
All nations and peoples combine to be free.

Democracy now sure is coming to stay,
The flood-tide is turning, and well on its way;
Then tremble, ye vultures, the day of your power
Is over, and manhood no longer will cower.

The flag of the free! thank God, it's unfurl'd,
The standard of hope to a war-weary world ;
That Kaisers, and junkers, and tyrants may see,
All nations and peoples combine to be free.


Paul Kruger, though not just a saint,
Yet loves his Bible well;
His creed is pure, without a taint,
He has no thought of Hell ;
For he can read his title clear
To mansions in the skies ;
So smokes his pipe, and knows no fear,
And British power defies.

For hath the Lord not mindful been
Of Oom Paul Kruger's race,
And given the Afric tribes that teem
As their inheritance?
So, with the Bible in one hand,
And rifle in the other,
His faith is muscular and grand,
Like Joshua, a brother.

Religious frenzy, it is true,
Is but insanity;
And Kruger madly threatens to
"Stagger Humanity!"
Perhaps you may, conceited fool,
But if you do, be sure
'Twill be the end of your misrule,
And treachery of the Boer.

For now the British Lion is roused,
And fierce and loud doth roar;
And with him, see his sturdy whelps
To fight the crafty Boer.
They come from far Australian ranch,
And from New Zealand strand,
From Canada, and India,
To lend a helping hand.

Now woe to thee, thou sullen Boer,
And all thy foreign knaves,
Whose hate and envy ill endure
The power that frees the slaves.
Our Union Jack once more unfurl'd
What power can haul it down?
While freemen smile o'er all the world,
And only tyrants frown.

The flag of Queen Victoria
(We hail it with three cheers)
Shall wave o'er proud Pretoria,
In spite of foes or fears;
While Kruger, with his men of war
And hordes of foreign knaves,
Shall bite the dust, and bow before
The Flag that rules the waves.

These verses were written in the early part of the Boer War, 1900.



'Tis the march! 'tis the march! of the Highland Brigade,
Caledonia's sons of the kilt and the plaid ;
Aye foremost in danger, right onward they go,
They have but one object, and that is the foe.
The pipers are blowing wi' might an' wi' main,
The Gordons and Campbells are coming again,
The bayonets are fixed, mark the flash of the steel,
See ! see ! how the foeman fall backward and reel.

Then forward the men of the Highland Brigade,
Aye ready and willing, and never dismayed ;
True sons of McGregor, Argyle and Lochiel,
McKenzie, McDonald, McLean and McNeil!

Your auld mither Scotia remembers wi' pride
How your prowess and courage oft turned the tide,
When the issue was doubtful, and brave men did fear,
How the Highland Brigade thundered up wi' a cheer.
Then shoulder to shoulder, brave sons of old Gaul,
Be aye true to your colours, whatever befall ;
As ye march proudly forward, sae gallant an' true,
Auld Scotland expects that your duty you'll do.

Then forward the men of the Highland Brigade,
Aye ready and willing, and never dismayed ;
True sons of McGregor, Argyle and Lochiel,
McKenzie, McDonald, McLean and McNeil!

So proudly ye march wi' your colours before,
Emblazoned wi' actions and battles galore,
Corunna, Quebec and famed Waterloo,
In Egypt, the Alma, and India, too;
And Afric's dark warriors (tho' bravely they fought)
Had to yield to the charge of the conquering Scot.
Then keep bright your name, lads, and ne'er let it fade,
And your country will honour the Highland Brigade.

Then forward the men of the Highland Brigade,
Aye ready and willing, and never dismayed ;
True sons of McGregor, Argyle and Lochiel,
McKenzie, McDonald, McLean and McNeil!

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