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’TWIXT THE WINGS OF THE YARD
Hear the loud swell of it, mighty pell-mell of it!
Thousands of voices all blent into one:
See ‘hell for leather’ now trooping together, now
Down the long slope of the range at a run!
Dust in the wake of ’em: see the wild break of ’em!
Spear-horned and curly, red, spotted and starred:
See the lads bringing ’em, blocking ’em, ringing ’em,
Fetching ’em up to the wings of the yard!
