There are debts we want to settle, 'and to 'and, and face to face,
There are one or two Hi've promised that Hi'd square;
And Hi cannot 'old my 'ead up, 'ere or in the other place,
Till Hi've settled for my bunkie, lying there.
Warriors
We all are warriors with sin. Crusading knights,
we come to earth
With spotless plumes and shining shields to joust
with foes and prove our worth.
The world is but a battlefield where strong and
weak men fill the lists,
And some make war with humble prayers, and
some with swords and some with fists.
And some for pleasure or for peace forsake their
purposes and goals
And barter for the scarlet joys of ease and pomp,
their knightly souls.
We're all enlisted soldiers here, in service for
the term called life
And each of us in some grim way must bear his
portion of the strife.
Temptations everywhere assail. Men do not rise
by fearing sin,
Nor he who keeps within his tent, unharmed,
unscratched, the crown shall win.
When wrongs are trampling mortals down and
rank injustice stalks about,
Real manhood to the battle flies, and dies or puts
the foes to rout.
'Tis not the new and shining blade that marks
the soldier of the field,
His glory is his broken sword, his pride the
scars upon his shield;
The crimson stains that sin has left upon his
soul are tongues that speak
The victory of new found strength by one who
yesterday was weak.
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