SONG OF THE FIFTH RIVER WHEN first by Eden Tree, The Four Great Rivers ran, But after this was ordained, (The ancient legends tell), There came dark Israel, For whom no River remained. Then He Whom the Rivers obey And a Fifth Great River shall run, In secret the Earth around; And Her secret evermore, Shall be shown to thee and thy Race." So it was said and done. And, deep in the veins of Earth, And Israel laid down. His sceptre and his crown, To brood on that River bank, Where the waters flashed and sank, And burrowed in earth and fell, For reason that none might know, He is Lord of the Last The Fifth, most wonderful, Flood. A thousand leagues to the South. He can foresay: "She will rise." A Ruler without a Throne, In no land King is he. But the Fifth Great River keeps For Israel alone, As it was ordered to be. THE CHILDREN'S SONG LAND of our Birth, we pledge to thee Our love and toil in the years to be; When we are grown and take our place, As men and women with our race. Father in Heaven who lovest all. Teach us to bear the yoke in youth, With steadfastness and careful truth; That, in our time, Thy Grace may give The Truth whereby the Nations live. Teach us to rule ourselves alway, Teach us to look in all our ends, Teach us the Strength that cannot seek, Teach us Delight in simple things, And Love to all men 'neath the sun! Land of our Birth, our faith, our pride, Head, heart, and hand through the years to be! PARADE-SONG OF THE CAMP-ANIMALS ELEPHANTS OF THE GUN-TEAMS WE LENT to Alexander the strength of Hercules, Make way there, way for the ten-foot teams Of the Forty-Pounder train! GUN-BULLOCKS Those heroes in their harnesses avoid a cannon-ball, CAVALRY HORSES By the brand on my withers, the finest of tunes Then feed us and break us and handle and groom, SCREW-GUN MULES As me and my companions were scrambling up a hill, where, And it's our delight on a mountain height, with a leg or two to spare! Good luck to every sergeant, then, that lets us pick our road! Bad luck to all the driver-men that cannot pack a load! For we can wriggle and climb, my lads, and turn up everywhere, And it's our delight on a mountain height, with a leg or two to spare! COMMISSARIAT CAMELS We haven't a camelty tune of our own But every neck is a hair-trombone Can't! Don't! Shan't! Won't! Somebody's pack has slid from his back, Somebody's load has tipped off in the road— ALL THE BEASTS TOGETHER Children of the Camp are we, |