"Without Shedding of Blood . . ."
GOD gave us England from of old,
But we held light the gift He gave;
Our royal birthright we have sold,
And now the land we lost for gold
Only our blood can save.
Not till thousands have been slain
Shall the green wood be green again;
Not till men shall fall and bleed
Can brown ale taste like ale indeed.
Blood and blood must yet be shed
To make the roses red.
For minds made vile, and blind with greed,
For sins that spread from sire to son;
For loss of honour, loss of creed,
There yet remains one cure indeed—
And there remains but one.
Malvern men must die and kill
That wind may blow on Malvern Hill;
Devonshire blood must fall like dew
That Devon's bays may yet be blue;
London must spill out lives like wine
That London's lights may shine.
45
