The Recruit
Leave your home behind, lad,And reach your friends your hand,And go, and luck go with youWhile Ludlow tower shall stand.
Oh, come you home of SundayWhen Ludlow streets are stillAnd Ludlow bells are callingTo farm and lane and mill,
Or come you home of MondayWhen Ludlow market humsAnd Ludlow chimes are playing"The conquering hero comes,"
Come you home a hero,Or come not home at all,The lads you leave will mind youTill Ludlow tower shall fall.
And you will list the bugleThat blows in lands of morn,And make the foes of EnglandBe sorry you were born.
And you till trump of doomsdayOn lands of morn may lie,And make the hearts of comradesBe heavy where you die.
Leave your home behind you,Your friends by field and townOh, town and field will mind youTill Ludlow tower is down.
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