132 MAURICE HEWLETT
Soldier, soldier, if by shot or shell
They wound him, my dear lad, my sweetheart O,
He'll lie bleeding in the rain
And call me, all in vain.
Crying for the fingers of his sweetheart O.
Pretty one, pretty one, now take a word from me :
Don't you grudge the life-blood of your sweetheart O.
For you must understand
He gives it to our land.
And proud should fly the colors of his sweetheart O.
Soldier, soldier, my heart is growing cold —
If a German shot kill my sweetheart !
I could not lift my head
If my dear love lay dead
With his wide eyes waiting for his sweetheart 0.
Poor child, poor child, go to church and pray,
Pray God to spare you your sweetheart O.
But if he live or die
The English flag must fly.
And England take care of his sweetheart O !
— Maurice Hewlett.
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