The street sounds to the soldiers' tread
The street sounds to the soldiers' tread,And out we troop to see:A single redcoat turns his head,He turns and looks at me.
My man, from sky to sky's so far,We never crossed before;Such leagues apart the world's ends are,We're like to meet no more;
What thoughts at heart have you and IWe cannot stop to tell;But dead or living, drunk or dry,Soldier, I wish you well.
Sign in to like, rate and collect poems, and keep track of what you've read.