The mark of a stake in the shoulder, <br />The brand of a wall on the knee, <br />Are scars to the careless beholder <br />And blemishes. So it may be ; <br />But every such blemish endorses <br />The pluck of a steed unafraid, <br />And the heart of a lover of horses <br />Goes out to the Battered Brigade. <br />Their knocks have been gathered in duty, <br />Their scars in the front of the fray; <br />It isn't your cleanest-legged beauty <br />That's first at the end of the day. <br />When five foot of timber before us <br />Has half of the pretty ones stayed, <br />If you want to catch up to the chorus <br />Come on with the Battered Brigade! <br />Turned out in the finest of fettle <br />'Tis sometimes the soundest that fails <br />And would rather hear hoofs on the metal <br />Than follow the rattle of rails; <br />But out on the grass with hounds racing <br />And fences as big as they're made <br />The cream of the gay steeple-chasing <br />Is left to the Battered Brigade. <br />Their line is the line of the foxes, <br />Their pace is the pace of the pack, <br />Though to-morrow they stand in their boxes <br />As stiff as the props of a stack; <br />And I 'll lay you my cheque at the banker's <br />They're forward next week undismayed. <br />Good luck to the blemished front-rankers! <br />Hats off to the Battered Brigade!<br /><br />William Henry Ogilvie<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-battered-brigade/
