1917
When grown men cry tears of defeat
And won’t defy the libellous tongue
The day the truth fails to compete
That’s the day our liberty’s gone
What are these tears, these fateful drops
Where are the morals they replace
Where was the vim and vigour lost
What spell was cast to so debase
Whilst salt of life’s protectors’ wail
Their shield and shining armour rust
As strong and steadfast fall and flail
The vulnerable perish, turn to dust.
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