At the call of the bugle, and the roll of the drum, <br />With the bold front of heroes, our trained Rifles come, <br />All marshalled and marching to strains that inspire, <br />And fan in each bosom the true martial fire. <br /> <br /> <br />Defenders of Britain-her chosen, her own, <br />Of danger she spake, and to arms you have flown; <br />And bright eyes are beaming, and proud hearts beat high, <br />For the brave Volunteers marching gallantly by. <br /> <br /> <br />Your movement is crowned with a glorious success, <br />Our good Queen approves, and your country will bless <br />Her brave sons and true in the Volunteer ranks; <br />She gives you the boon of a proud mother's thanks. <br /> <br /> <br />Let fort after fort darkly frown on the steep- <br />Let steel-plated Warriors keep guard on the deep; <br />Let Armstrong's dread thunders incessantly roar, <br />And his dark tubes of death vomit flame on our shore. <br /> <br /> <br />Oh, stronger than all, for defence of her coast, <br />Her Volunteer patriots-her glory and boast; <br />No foot of invader her soil shall profane, <br />True hearts and true rifles she trusts not in vain.<br /><br />Janet Hamilton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/british-volunteers/
