Ye dear, noble laddies, so tender and loyal, Imbued with the race-pride of Scotia's best sons; What danger more daring, what fam'd path more royal? Than that which we trod where the "Death's Incline" runs. Deep down in the heart of the mine's bosom glowing Ye forced the fired roadways to succour, to save; And little cared ye for the venom'd smoke blowing Its gust of disaster, still forward you brave. Everything, anything - no fears you appalling - The hideous inferno to conquer - or die; Though timbers break round you and roofstones are falling, You boldly press onward, your goal to get nigh. Thro' winding maze-roadways, then to the workplaces You hastily rush wild a word-warning yell: - Yet saw not the "Pride" look that lit the grim faces Of comrades who listen'd the news ye did tell. The news that ye told of the fiery mine burning, And filling the roadways with smoke and with flame; Then shouting "Come on, men," ye took the home-turning, And led them well on to the path that you came. Lead back, noble laddies, your fathers and brothers, Guide quickly and safely your kindred and mates; Fond-hearted leal-bairnies and grief-stricken mothers All yearn to embrace them again at the gates. We mourn our boy-heroes, the tears of a nation Besprinkle the verdure that grows o'er their graves; Though Scotland's fam'd soldiers stand first in War's station Yet none are so noble as Mauricewood's Braves. When God calls His chosen to meet on that Great Day To welcome our laddies to enter the Hall; Ye cohort of angels who guard Heaven's gateway Salute ye the "truest and bravest of all".
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