  Comes there now a mighty rally From the weald and from the coast, Down from cliff and up from valley, Spirits of an ancient host; Castle gray and village mellow, Coastguard's track and shepherd's fold, Crumbling church and cracked martello Echo to this chant of old— Chant of knight and chant of bowman: Kent and Sussex feared no foeman Screaming gull and lark a-singing, Bubbling brook and booming sea, Church and cattle bells a-ringing Swell the ghostly melody; "Chalk and flint, Sirs, lie beneath ye, Mingling with our dust below! Chalk and flint, Sirs, they bequeath ye This our chant of long ago!" Chant of knight and chant of bowman, Chant of squire and chant of yeoman: Kent and Sussex feared no foeman In the days of long ago! Hills that heed not Time or weather, Sussex down and Kentish lane, Roads that wind through marsh and heather Feel the mail-shod feet again; Chalk and flint their dead are giving— Spectres grim and spectres bold— Marching on to cheer the living With their battle-chant of old— Chant of knight and chant of bowman, Chant of squire and chant of yeoman: Witness Norman! Witness Roman! Kent and Sussex feared no foeman In the valiant days of old! Reprinted by special permission of London "Punch" |
|
