Said Paul Leroy to Barrow, ‘ Though the breach is steep and narrow, If we only gain the summit Then it's odds we hold the fort.
I have ten and you have twenty, And the thirty should be plenty, With Henderson and Henty And McDermott in support.’
Said Barrow to Leroy, ‘ It's a solid job, my boy, For they've flanked it, and they've banked it, And they've bored it with a mine.
But it's only fifty paces Ere we look them in the faces; And the men are in their places, With their toes upon the line.’
Said Paul Leroy to Barrow, ‘ See that first ray, like an arrow, How it tinges all the fringes Of the sullen drifting skies.
They told me to begin it At five-thirty to the minute, And at thirty-one I'm in it, Or my sub will get his rise.
‘ So we'll wait the signal rocket, Till... Barrow, show that locket, That turquoise-studded locket, Which you slipped from out your pocket
And are pressing with a kiss! Turquoise-studded, spiral-twisted, It is hers! And I had missed it From her chain; and you have kissed it:
Barrow, villain, what is this?’ ‘ Leroy, I had a warning, That my time has come this morning, So I speak with frankness, scorning
To deny the thing that's true. Yes, it's Amy's, is the trinket, Little turquoise-studded trinket, Not her gift — oh, never think it!
For her thoughts were all for you. ‘ As we danced I gently drew it From her chain — she never knew it But I love her — yes, I love her:
I am candid, I confess. But I never told her, never, For I knew‘ twas vain endeavour, And she loved you — loved you ever,
Would to God she loved you less!’ ‘ Barrow, Barrow, you shall pay me! Me, your comrade, to betray me! Well I know that little Amy
Is as true as wife can be. She to give this love-badged locket! She had rather... Ha, the rocket! Hi, McDougall! Sound the bugle!
Yorkshires, Yorkshires, follow me!’ Said Paul Leroy to Amy, ‘ Well, wifie, you may blame me, For my passion overcame me,
When he told me of his shame; But when I saw him lying, Dead amid a ring of dying, Why, poor devil, I was trying
To forget, and not to blame. ‘ And this locket, I unclasped it From the fingers that still grasped it: He told me how he got it,
How he stole it in a valse.’ And she listened leaden-hearted: Oh, the weary day they parted! For she loved him — yes, she loved him -
For his youth and for his truth, And for those dying words, so false.
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