Related quotes: There was a young Scottish...

A Scottish Soldier

There was a young Scottish soldier
of the Highlanders Brigade
his Black Watch Regiment
marched through the night’s thunderstorm
to battle the Boers at Magersfontein

They were waiting in the trenches
when the Black Watch deploy into
open order march for the dawn assault

At four hundred yards the Boers open fire
and caught the column changing formation
killing Scottish soldiers left right and center

The young Scottish soldier badly wounded
scared to lift his body and head
lying on the veld tormented
by ants thirst and scorching sun
blisters on his legs from kilt
to stockings...

In mid-afternoon the Highlanders broke
and retreat under heavy fire

The young soldier then died
under the African sun...
one of 279 killed and wounded

A black day for the British Empire
and the young Scottish soldier...
from the Black Watch Regiment!

poem by Johan Jacobs
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes

My Young Soldier;

My young soldier,
Brave as can be.

My young soldier,
Don't stop fighting.

My young soldier,
You have so much strength.

My young soldier,
Please don't die on me.

My young soldier,
I love you so very much.

My young soldier,
I miss you so dearly.

My young soldier,
Come home to me.

poem by Heather Sandvoss
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Promise Of A Lie

Go to war young soldier,
Your glory will be praised.
Go to war young soldier,
Your home will stay the same.

Fight for us young soldier,
worry naught about your love.
Fight for us young soldier,
She waits for your return.

Welcome home young soldier,
Heres the medal upon your chest.
Welcome home young soldier,
Your life is now a mess.

Go away young soldier,
We have no more use for you.
Go away young soldier,
Till we call again for you.

poem by Sean Foxx
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Young Soldier

Stay calm soldier
Do not panic
Stay calm soldier
And think of what you were taught
You're too young to die
My soldier
You're too young to leave

Run soldier
From the danger ahead
Run soldier
Don't be brave
You're too young to die
My soldier
You're too young to leave

Fight soldier
The enemy that fights you
Fight soldier
And make it though the day
You're too young to die
My soldier
You're too young to leave

Come home soldier
I miss you terribly
Come home soldier
To me and your family
You're too young to die
My soldier
Don't ever leave me

poem by Only Yours
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mother’s Cry of Late

Where for art thou, soldier?
Out East? West? –
And when? –
What part your rabid history?
And why? –
What wrought your destiny? –
For whom
You’d wreak your enmity –
I crave your fate to pen!

What comprehension of the
Order? –
‘Listen up! you men!
Raze to ground the taken land!
See they die and e’er you’ll stand, for
Death is but a grain of sand –
The mighty triumph, medal grand!

Now go you well!
Amen! ’

What sight upon the bloody lie
Of war? – your doubtful fate.

‘Where for art thou, soldier? ’ –
Your mother’s cry of late.

soldier soldier soldier soldier soldier soldier
soldier soldier soldier soldier soldier soldier
soldier soldier soldier soldier soldier soldier
soldier soldier soldier soldier soldier soldier
soldier soldier soldier soldier soldier soldier

poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Soldier's Ghost

I bled for you - would you for me?

I blessed a skin in blazing fuel
Then took a bullet in a duel of
‘He or I to Die.'

I often question ‘Why? '
Do you?

My country was my life to give -
Would you for country cease to live?
Sinking in a mire of death,
You have no choice -
So while you're still alive,
Rejoice!

I cried in failure - did you care?
And as I waned, were you aware of
What I did -?
Fighting for my country while you hid
Behind your comfort back at home?

Still relaxed?
My wife and child are fading at the tomb.

Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier soldier
Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier
Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier
Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier soldier soldier war
Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier
war war war war war war war war war war war war
war war war war war war war war war war war war
war war war war war war war war war war war war

poem by Mark R Slaughter
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The Young British Soldier

When the 'arf-made recruity goes out to the East
'E acts like a babe an' 'e drinks like a beast,
An' 'e wonders because 'e is frequent deceased
Ere 'e's fit for to serve as a soldier.
Serve, serve, serve as a soldier,
Serve, serve, serve as a soldier,
Serve, serve, serve as a soldier,
So-oldier ~OF~ the Queen!

Now all you recruities what's drafted to-day,
You shut up your rag-box an' 'ark to my lay,
An' I'll sing you a soldier as far as I may:
A soldier what's fit for a soldier.
Fit, fit, fit for a soldier . . .

First mind you steer clear o' the grog-sellers' huts,
For they sell you Fixed Bay'nets that rots out your guts --
Ay, drink that 'ud eat the live steel from your butts --
An' it's bad for the young British soldier.
Bad, bad, bad for the soldier . . .

When the cholera comes -- as it will past a doubt --
Keep out of the wet and don't go on the shout,
For the sickness gets in as the liquor dies out,
An' it crumples the young British soldier.
Crum-, crum-, crumples the soldier . . .

But the worst o' your foes is the sun over'ead:
You ~must~ wear your 'elmet for all that is said:
If 'e finds you uncovered 'e'll knock you down dead,
An' you'll die like a fool of a soldier.
Fool, fool, fool of a soldier . . .

If you're cast for fatigue by a sergeant unkind,
Don't grouse like a woman nor crack on nor blind;
Be handy and civil, and then you will find
That it's beer for the young British soldier.
Beer, beer, beer for the soldier . . .

Now, if you must marry, take care she is old --
A troop-sergeant's widow's the nicest I'm told,
For beauty won't help if your rations is cold,
Nor love ain't enough for a soldier.
'Nough, 'nough, 'nough for a soldier . . .

If the wife should go wrong with a comrade, be loath
To shoot when you catch 'em -- you'll swing, on my oath! --
Make 'im take 'er and keep 'er: that's Hell for them both,
An' you're shut o' the curse of a soldier.
Curse, curse, curse of a soldier . . .

When first under fire an' you're wishful to duck,
Don't look nor take 'eed at the man that is struck,
Be thankful you're livin', and trust to your luck
And march to your front like a soldier.
Front, front, front like a soldier . . .

When 'arf of your bullets fly wide in the ditch,
Don't call your Martini a cross-eyed old bitch;
She's human as you are -- you treat her as sich,
An' she'll fight for the young British soldier.
Fight, fight, fight for the soldier . . .

When shakin' their bustles like ladies so fine,
The guns o' the enemy wheel into line,
Shoot low at the limbers an' don't mind the shine,
For noise never startles the soldier.
Start-, start-, startles the soldier . . .

If your officer's dead and the sergeants look white,
Remember it's ruin to run from a fight:
So take open order, lie down, and sit tight,
And wait for supports like a soldier.
Wait, wait, wait like a soldier . . .

When you're wounded and left on Afghanistan's plains,
And the women come out to cut up what remains,
Jest roll to your rifle and blow out your brains
An' go to your Gawd like a soldier.
Go, go, go like a soldier,
Go, go, go like a soldier,
Go, go, go like a soldier,
So-oldier ~of~ the Queen!

poem by Rudyard Kipling
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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And I Thank You...

A young soldier takes a deep breath before battle,
Now millions of miles away from the golden plains and the cattle,
Fearing for his life, and another battle loss,
He closes his eyes, and grips tight on his golden cross.

The sergeant yells, and he gets into line,
The troop marches to the battlefield, early morning, about nine,
With sweat running down their faces, and dirt in their hair,
The men look to the sky, and say a silent prayer.

A grenade explodes and the troop scurries on the run,
The young soldier hides in a foxhole, griping onto his gun,
He pops up, but too much smoke he can’t see,
Squinting as hard as he can to find the enemy.

The day is gone, and the young soldier still holds his gun to his shoulder,
Bruised and battered, he feels the night become colder,
As he looks to his left, he wants to break down and cry,
Because he had to watch his best friend get shot, and then he died.

The stale scent of tragedy in the air hovers,
Because this young soldier lost many of his band of brothers,
And now the enemy has fallen back with a retreat,
Because they now know that they have been beat.

You fought for the red, white, and blue,
And for this I greatly thank you,
You fought to allow me to speak my mind freely behind this ballpoint pen,
So once again I thank you, my hero, my dear veteran.

poem by Ryan McNicholas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Another Young Soldier

Another young soldier has died far away
An army representative will call on his mother today
For to tell her your son on the course of his duty has died
He served and died for his Country with his mates at his side.

Another war mother will grieve for her son
It will not matter to her if the battle was won
And it will not matter to her if her boy died brave
She will weep every time she will visit his grave.

Another young soldier to join the war dead
A bullet from a sniper hit him in the head
On his next birthday in June he would be twenty three
His loss a heavy cross to bear for his parents and members of his family.

Another young soldier may he rest in peace
At least from further suffering he has found release
Just one more to die in another man's war
On a bombed out back street in a city afar.

poem by Francis Duggan
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To Be Young, Gifted & Black

(1969) nina simone, weldon irvine jr
To be young, gifted and black,
Oh what a lovely precious dream
To be young, gifted and black,
Open your heart to what I mean
In the whole world you know
There are billion boys and girls
Who are young, gifted and black,
And thats a fact!
Young, gifted and black
We must begin to tell our young
Theres a world waiting for you
This is a quest thats just begun
When you feel really low
Yeah, theres a great truth you should know
When youre young, gifted and black
Your souls intact
Young, gifted and black
How I long to know the truth
There are times when I look back
And I am haunted by my youth
Oh but my joy of today
Is that we can all be proud to say
To be young, gifted and black
Is where its at

song performed by by Nina Simone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Be Young Gifted And Black

song performed by by Nina Simone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Ashantee War

'Twas in the year of 1874, and on New Year's Day,
The British Army landed at Elmina without dismay,
And numbering in all, 1400 bayonets strong,
And all along the Cape Coast they fearlessly marched along,
Under the command of Sir Garnet Wolseley, a hero bold,
And an honour to his King and country, be it told.
And between them and Coomassie, lay a wilderness of jungle,
But they marched on boldly without making a stumble,
And under a tropical sun, upwards of an hundred miles,
While their bayonets shone bright as they marched on in files.

Coomassie had to be reached and King Coffee's power destroyed,
And, before that was done the British were greatly annoyed,
Lieutenant Lord Gifford, with his men gained the Crest of the Adenisi Hills,
And when they gained the top, with joy their hearts fills.

Sir John McLeod was appointed General of the Black Brigade;
And a great slaughter of the enemy they made,
And took possession of an Ashantee village,
And fought like lions in a fearful rage.

While the British troops most firmly stood,
And advanced against a savage horde concealed in a wood,
Yet the men never flinched, but entered the wood fearlessly,
And all at once the silence was broken by a roar of musketry.

And now the fight began in real earnest,
And the Black Watch men resolved to do their best,
While the enemy were ambushed in the midst of the wood,
Yet the Highlanders their ground firmly stood.

And the roar of the musketry spread through the jungle,
Still the men crept on without making a stumble,
And many of the Black Watch fell wounded and dead,
And Major Macpherson was wounded, but he rallied his men without dread.

The battle raged for five hours, but the Highlanders were gaining ground,
Until the bagpipes struck up their wild clarion sound,
Then the dusky warriors fled in amazement profound,
Because their comrades were falling on every side around.

Sir Archibald Alison led on the Highland Brigade,
And great havoc amongst the enemy they made,
And village after village they captured and destroyed,
Until King Coffee lost heart and felt greatly annoyed.

Sir John McLeod took the command of his own regiment,
And with a swinging pace into the jaws of death they went,
Fearlessly firing by companies in rotation,
Add dashed into a double Zone of Fire without hesitation.

And in that manner the Black Watch pressed onward,
And the enemy were powerless their progress to retard,
Because their glittering bayonets were brought into play,
And panic stricken the savage warriors fled in great dismay.

Then Sir Garnet Wolseley with his men entered Coomassie at night,
Supported by half the rifles and Highlanders- a most beautiful sight,
And King Coffee and his army had fled,
And thousands of his men on the field were left dead.

And King Coffee, he was crushed at last,
And the poor King felt very downcast,
And his sorrow was really profound,
When he heard that Coomassie was burned to the ground.

Then the British embarked for England without delay,
And with joy their hearts felt gay,
And by the end of March they reached England,
And the reception they received was very grand.

poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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I was a Soldier once

Old, tired, physically worn out,
With every move my muscles shout.
Woodworking, gardening, lazing about,
nothing to do but widdle and pout.

I was a Soldier once, large and strong,
I was a Soldier once, doing no wrong.
I was a Soldier once, fighting your war,
I was a Soldier once, mighty to the core.

I sit behind a desk now, slowly getting fat,
Knowing where I should really be settling my hat.
This civilian life I live, is so deadly to me,
I should, again, be a soldier, a sight to see.

I was a Soldier once, Yes Sir, No Sir, anything you say Sir.
I was a Soldier once; it was the life I preferred.
I was a Soldier once, leading from the saddle.
I was a Soldier once, living in my battle rattle.

Those that have never been one shall never know.
Those that put them down can basically go blow.
In this day and age, Soldiers protect our Freedom
In this day and age, everyone should be one.
I know this because,

I was a Soldier once, protecting you and yours.
I was a Soldier once, with back to back fighting tours.
I was a Soldier once, dying for the American way.
and although I was a Soldier once,
I should be a Soldier Now, fighting for you every day.

poem by Rik Bertrand
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What You Find

There is discipline in A Soldier
you can see it when he walks,
There is honor in A Soldier
you hear it when he talks.
There is courage in A Soldier
you can see it in his eyes,
There is loyalty in A Soldier
that he will not compromise.
There is something in A Soldier
that makes him stand apart,
There is strength in A Soldier
that beats from his heart.
A Soldier isn't a title any man
can be hired to do,
A Soldier is the soul of that man
buried deep inside of you.
A Soldier's job isn't finished after
an 8 hour day or a 40 hour week,
A Soldier is always A Soldier
even while he sleeps.
A Soldier serves his country first
and his life is left behind,
A Soldier has to sacrifice what
comes first in a civilian's mind.
If you are civilian -
I am saying this to you.....
next time you see A Soldier
remember what they do.
A Soldier is the reason our land
is 'Home of the free',
A Soldier is the one that is brave
protecting you and me.
If you are A Soldier -
I am saying this to you.....
Thank God for EVERY SOLDIER
Thank God for what YOU do!

TY bohls

poem by Ty. Bohls
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Brave Little Soldier

Im a brave little soldier
I must be bold and strong
A brave little soldier
And I must carry on
Im a brave little soldier
A brave little soldier
Im a brave little soldier
I must fight, I must win
Im a brave little soldier
Through hell and back again
Im a brave little soldier
A brave little soldier
Per rum, pum, pum
Per rum, pum, pum
Per rum, pum, pum, pum, pum
Ye though I am marching through the valley filled with fear
My steps are sure and sturdy and my aim is straight and clear
The enemy is stalking me just waiting for the kill
Like david slewed galiath
I will claim this battle field
Im a brave little soldier
I must do what I can
Im a brave little soldier
And I must take a stand
Im a brave little soldier
A brave little soldier
Marching, marching onward
Searching out the light of truth
I did not start the war
But its a battle I cant lose
Faith will be my armor
And love my sword and shield
I must defeat the enemy
I will, I will, I will
A brave little soldier
I must be bold and strong
A brave little soldier
And I must carry on
A brave little soldier
A brave little soldier
Im a brave little soldier
A brave little soldier
Brave, little soldier

song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Soldier's Song

Smoke was slowly rising as the night began to fade,
There were fires on the sky line from some distant born array,
I was riding out at 17 to join my first brigade,
Many years ago.
And I chanced upon a farm house where the woman took me in,
She gave me food and wine, she gave me shelter from the wind,
She delayed me from my regiment, and service of my King,
Many years ago.
She said "Soldier, before I lose you to the fight,
Oh my soldier, I'll make a man of you tonight"
She took me over, in the fading fire glow,
On that wild and misty night she was my woman.
When I rose next morning I was gone before she stirred,
Tore myself away from there and left without a word,
Sound of distant infantry was the only thing I heard,
On that morning.
And in that day I aged 10 years and died a thousand deaths,
I learned the feel of frozen steal and fear within my breast,
But the lesson I remember 'til they laided me to my rest,
Keeps returning.
She said "Soldier, before I lose you to the fight,
Oh my soldier, I'll make a man of you tonight"
She took me over, in the fading fire glow,
On that wild and misty night she was my woman.
And when the dice of war was thrown, and victory was won,
My drunken young compatriots went out to have their fun,
And there was no single house they did not burn or over run,
On that evening.
And I rode out to that place again as hard as I could ride,
but I found her by the trail on the lonely mountain side,
In the hands of those brave friends of mine she suffered and she died,
Many years ago.
"Soldier, before I lose you to the fight,
Oh my soldier, I'll make a man of you tonight"
She took me over, in the fading fire glow,
On that wild and misty night she was my woman.

song performed by by Hollies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Soldier- Dedicated to Nicholas Shelton

There is discipline in A Soldier you can see it when he walks,
There is honor in A Soldier you hear it when he talks.
There is courage in A Soldier you can see it in his eyes,
There is loyalty in A Soldier that he will not compromise.
There is something in A Soldier that makes him stand apart,
There is strength in A Soldier that beats from his heart.
A Soldier isn't a title any man can be hired to do,
A Soldier is the soul of that man buried deep inside of you.
A Soldier's job isn't finished after an 8 hour day or a 40 hour week,
A Soldier is always A Soldier even while he sleeps.
A Soldier serves his country first and his life is left behind,
A Soldier has to sacrifice what comes first in a civilian's mind.
If you are civilian - I am saying this to you..... next time you see A Soldier remember what they do.
A Soldier is the reason our land is 'Home of the free',
A Soldier is the one that is brave protecting you and me.
If you are A Soldier - I am saying this to you.....
Thank God for EVERY SOLDIER Thank God for what YOU do!

I thought about you Mr. Shelton, I figured this is the least I could do to thank you my friend.

poem by Caleb Jones
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Soldier Fights

the soldier fights for the hippys rights to protest against that soldier
the soldier fights for the politions rights to send that soldier to war
the soldier fights for buisness mans rights to make money
the soldier fights for the policemans rights to arrest that soldier
the soldier fights for school kids right to know about past soldiers
the soldier fights to so that you may all sleep at night
the soldier fights for religion so that you may all belive what you wish
And yet the soldier fights on
the soldier fights for his flag, for his country, for his life

poem by Katie
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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This Soldier

This soldier is my hero.
He is the one i get my strength from
He is strong; like two body builders put together.
He is brave and fearless.

This soldier is my cousin.
The memories we have together mean more to me
Than anything in the world.
He is the one who I pray for at night.

This soldier is fighting right now.
With the gun in his hand, he fires.
Bang, bang, bang,
Shots fire from his gun as his body tenses up.
Is he as scared as I am?

This soldier is my soldier,
Without him, I wouldn't be the same.
My soldier is the one I miss,
The one I haven't seen since 3rd grade.

This soldier is proud.
He fights for his own life, just to keep us safe.
He is the one that I want to know,
That he is my hero for life.
-Dedicated to my cousin Chris Yingling-

poem by Kailee Falvo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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At The Grave Of The Unknown Soldier

He was a brave soldier he died young and brave
And for more than six decades he lay in his grave
And still at the dawning of each war memorial day
At his grave site a young bugler the last post does play.

Known as the Unknown Soldier one without a name
Still he had a mum and a dad just the same
And when he did not return home when the fighting was done
They grieved at their loss and they wept for their son.

The war to end all wars of all wars 'tis said
But more wars are fought and we have more war dead
And at the grave of the unknown soldier the last post is played
And to honour the war dead another parade.

Old war men do tell us young soldiers fight and die
For freedom and liberty that is a lie
They went to war when young they are now old and gray
Some grow old not wiser some are known to say.

That they were fighting for freedom and justice they believed to be true
And they were quite gallant to give them their due
But many deprived of their human rights in the World of today
And that does seem a very sad thing for to say.

With heads bowed old men showing their years in gray
At the grave of the Unknown Soldier at the dawn of the day
In silence do listen as a young bugler the last post does play
For one who fought and died in a war far away.