Poems by A. H. Laidlaw

Sorted by title, showing title and first line

Thou art mighty,
I have loved you all my days,
Bird of the summering North,
The Blue Eye will do if the courting is through
Inscribed to Dennis F. Burke, last Commander of the Irish Brigade, at Gettysburg.
Foiled on the field with his dead boys around him,
'Tis here we invade the valley,
Ever to be
Fare thee well, O Love of Woman!
Gif a lassie spurn a laddie
Home! Home!
Ye Parsons, desirous all sinners to save,
JOCK.
MAIDEN.
Adieu to France! Land of the Brave, farewell!
See, the field of battle gleams
Sherry's not in saddle,
Sword of Jehovah, swing
The Lord is wroth with Pharaoh's men,
Tears, tears,
With a sullen, setting Sun,
The day of War is over
The maid for man to love,
Yes! The land we love
That luscious lip, the British Gyp,
Dead! Where the bold and brave
I plead with tears to thee,
There is blood upon the Banner, the Banner of the Free,
Swift o'er the lee when the wind flies free,
As I stroll by the stream where you stray,
With pensive memories
'Tis daily this baste
By the Revolution's dead,
"By the splendor of God!" was a characteristic oath of William the Conqueror.
We all know the face of the chap who can tell
Weep not for him who, in the battle dying,
With a ho-ho-ho! and a hi-hi-hi!

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