III. The Recruit

Leave your home behind, lad,
 And reach your friends your hand,
And go, and luck go with you
 While Ludlow tower shall stand.

Oh, come you home of Sunday
 When Ludlow streets are still
And Ludlow bells are calling
 To farm and lane and mill,

Or come you home of Monday
 When Ludlow market hums
And Ludlow chimes are playing
 "The conquering hero comes,"

Come you home a hero,
 Or come not home at all,
The lads you leave will mind you
 Till Ludlow tower shall fall.

And you will list the bugle
 That blows in lands of morn,
And make the foes of England
 Be sorry you were born.

And you till trump of doomsday
 On lands of morn may lie,
And make the hearts of comrades
 Be heavy where you die.

Leave your home behind you,
 Your friends by field and town
Oh, town and field will mind you
 Till Ludlow tower is down.
III. The Recruit

by A. E. Housman, 1896
