| |
| ‘FAREWELL to barn and stack and tree, | |
| Farewell to Severn shore. | |
| Terence, look your last at me, | |
| For I come home no more. | |
| |
| ‘The sun burns on the half-mown hill, | 5 |
| By now the blood is dried; | |
| And Maurice amongst the hay lies still | |
| And my knife is in his side. | |
| |
| ‘My mother thinks us long away; | |
| ’Tis time the field were mown. | 10 |
| She had two sons at rising day, | |
| To-night she ’ll be alone. | |
| |
| ‘And here ’s a bloody hand to shake, | |
| And oh, man, here ’s good-bye; | |
| We ’ll sweat no more on scythe and rake, | 15 |
| My bloody hands and I. | |
| |
| ‘I wish you strength to bring you pride, | |
| And a love to keep you clean, | |
| And I wish you luck, come Lammastide, | |
| At racing on the green. | 20 |
| |
| ‘Long for me the rick will wait, | |
| And long will wait the fold, | |
| And long will stand the empty plate, | |
| And dinner will be cold.’ | |
| |
