The Western Campaign
Let us sing of the heroes that march'd from yon town
To keep liberty up, to put Radicals down,
With their long spurs and sabres so bright.
Their majestic manoeuvres in cross-road and lane -
Their walk on the hill, and their trot on the plain -
The butts that were shed, and the beeves that were slain -
Stamp'd an imortal renown on the western campaign.
And the long spurs and sabres so bright.
Through Auld Reekie thy note, Preparation! was heard,
The hallooing of Horne, and the bellow of Baird,
For their long spurs and sabres so bright.
At their magical call, what a muster began!
What a figging of horse! what a rigging of man!
Lawyers flung by the fee-book to furnish their pops,
And mettlesome merchants strode fierce from their shops,
With their long spurs and sabres so bright.
'Twas at Bathgate this war might be said to commence,
To the tune, as was fitting, of "D__n the expense!
By our long spurs and sabres so bright."
As the Waterloo cheesemongers batter'd the French,
So these nurslings of luxury, stretch'd on a bench,
In a pitiful pot-house durst patiently snore,
Or boldly bivouack'd round a bowl on the floor,
All in long spurs and sabres so bright.
Yet ere long they were destined still higher to soar,
In endurance heroic on Slamannan moor,
In their long spurs and sabres so bright.
On that scene of devotion there twinkled no star;
The occasional flash of a lighted cigar
Scarce sufficed to distinguish a fir from a foe,
Or the wet Mandarin from a turnip scare-crow,
Spite of long spurs and sabres so bright.
Neither pot-house, nor pent-house, nor pea-shed was here,
Not the heart-stirring chink of the cork of small-beer,
To greet long spurs and sabres so bright.
Yet, all sleepless and fogg'd, when to Airdrie they came
Colonel Smith canters in with a visage of flame;
There's a thousand hot colliers, quoth he, I've just seen,
Reviewed by old Soult on a farmer's back green;
Go it, long spurs and sabres so bright.
There was mounting in haste beside Airdrie's canal;
Every pistol was cock'd - some were loaded with ball -
Besides long spurs and sabres so bright.
Over ditches and dykes, and through marshes and mire,
They gallop - you need not be told they perspire;
Save the fault was not theirs if they nothing espied
But a gay penny-wedding upon the hill-side
With its crack'd fiddles and favours so white.
Hey for Glasgow, that hot-bed of wealth and of war,
There at least you'll not baulk us, quoth every hussar,
With his long spurs and sabre so bright.
Call inactive, an please you, these traitor poltroons,
But accord the just meed to unwearied dragoons;
Mars approved of their vigour at dinner and lunch,
And the Broomielaw Naiads pour'd oceans of punch
O'er the long spurs and sabres so bright.
In the dead of the night, with twelve-pounders behind,
To surprise strong Kilmarnock, more swift than the wind
Rode the long spurs and sabres so bright.
Their investing that city of ill-disposed men
Might have honoured a Condé, a Saxe, a Turenne;
But their march had been beat by the Kilwinning Fly,
And the cursed cowl-knitters escaped - being shy
Of their long spurs and sabres so bright.
When one greasy disciple of Carlile and Home
Had surrender'd his shuttle, Te Deum was blown
By young Napier, who flourished his bugle so bright.
Next they Straven blockaded:- if weavers were fled,
At least whisky and gingerbread staid in their stead;
So the holsters were cramm'd, and the leaguer was raised,
And the old women, lighting their cutty-pipes, gazed
After long spurs and sabres so bright.
Bellona thus bearded - Minerva struck dumb,
To Auld Reekie once more the Invincibles come,
With their long spurs and sabres so bright.
O, what grateful caresses, from matron and maid,
Must reward their exertions in storm and blockade;
Trophies bloody and blood-less are equally sweet,
And ladies must yield them like Rads, when they meet
With the long spur and sabre so bright.
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Copyright © 2001, Jack Campin
