Chapter XIX Armed Natives in the South African War

Oh, where is he, the simple fool,
Who says that wars are over?
What bloody portent flashes there,
Across the Straits of Dover?
Nine hundred thousand slaves in arms
May seek to bring us under
But England lives and still will live,
For we’ll crush the despot yonder.
Are we ready, Britons all,
To answer foes with thunder?
Arm, arm, arm!