The Drums Of Battersea

They cant hear in West o London, where the worst dine with the best,
Deaf to all save lies and laughter, they cant hear in London West,
Tailored brutes and splendid harlots, and the parasites that be,
They cant hear the warning thunder of the Drums of Battersea.
More drums! War drums!
Drums of Misery,
Beating from the hearts of men, the Drums of Battersea.

Where the hearses hurry ever, and where man lives like a beast,
They can feel the war-drums beating, men of Hell! and London East.
And the far-off foreign farmers, fighting fiercely to be free,
Found new courage in the echo of the Drums of Battersea.
More drums! War drums!
Beating for the free,
Beating on the hearts of men, the Drums of Battersea.

And the drummers! Ah! the drummers!, stern and haggard men are those
Standing grimly at their meetings; and their washed and mended clothes
Speak of worn-out wives behind them and of grinding poverty,
But the English of the English beat the Drums of Battersea!
More drums! War drums!
Drums of agony,
The big bruised heart of Englands in the Drums of Battersea.

Where in fields slave Englishwomen, Oh! the sound of drums is there:
I have heard it in the laughter of the nights of Leicester Square,
Sailing southward with the summer, London but a dream to me,
Still I feel the distant thunder of the Drums of Battersea!
More drums! War drums!
Drums of Liberty,
Rolling round the English world, the Drums of Battersea.

Oh! I heard them in the Queens Hall, aye! and London heard that night,
While we formed up round the leaders while they struck one blow for right!
And the old strength, that old fire, that I thought was dead in me,
Blazed up fiercely at the beating of the Drums of Battersea!
More drums! War drums!
They beat for victory,
When above the roar of Jingoes rolled the Drums of Battersea.

And whereer my feet may wander, and howeer I lay my head,
I shall hear them while Im dreaming, I shall hear them when Im dead!
For they beat for men and women, beat for Christ, and you and me:
There is hope and there is terror in the Drums of Battersea!
More drums! War drums!
Drums of destiny,
Theres hope!, theres hope for England in the Drums of Battersea.

Henry Lawson

Henry Lawson was an Australian writer and poet. Along with Banjo Paterson, he is among the best-known Australian poets and fiction writers of the colonial period and is often called Australia's 'greatest short story writer'. His works frequently document the lives and struggles of rural and outback Australians. Lawson's own life was marked by hardship and struggles including impaired hearing and financial difficulties, which influenced his realist depictions of Australian life. Some of his notable works include 'While the Billy Boils' and 'In the Days When the World was Wide.'

Henry Lawson

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The Good Old Concertina

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The Good Samaritan

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English

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The Drums Of Battersea

They cant hear in West o London, where the worst dine with the best,
Deaf to all save lies and laughter, they cant hear in London West,
Tailored brutes and splendid harlots, and the parasites that be,
They cant hear the warning thunder of the Drums of Battersea.
More drums! War drums!
Drums of Misery,
Beating from the hearts of men, the Drums of Battersea.

Where the hearses hurry ever, and where man lives like a beast,
They can feel the war-drums beating, men of Hell! and London East.
And the far-off foreign farmers, fighting fiercely to be free,
Found new courage in the echo of the Drums of Battersea.
More drums! War drums!
Beating for the free,
Beating on the hearts of men, the Drums of Battersea.

And the drummers! Ah! the drummers!, stern and haggard ...

Henry Lawson

Booth's Drum

They were ratty they were hooted by the meanest and the least,
When they woke the Drum of Glory long ago in London East.
They were often mobbed by hoodlums, they were few, but unafraid,
And their Lassies were insulted, but they banged the drum, and prayed.
Prayed in public for the sinners, prayed in private for release,
Till they saved some brawny lumpers, then they banged the drum in peace.
(Saved some prize-fighter and burglars), and they banged the drum in peace.

Booths Drum.
He was hook-nosed, he was scrawny,
He was nothing of a Don.
And his business ways seemed Yiddish,
And his speeches kid, or kiddish;
And we doubted his convictions,
But his drum is going on.

Oh, they drummed it ever onward with old Blood-and-Fire unfurled,
And they drumm...

Henry Lawson

The Jolly Dead March

If I ever be worthy or famous,
Which Im sadly beginning to doubt,
When the angel whose place tis to name us
Shall say to my spirit, Pass out!
I wish for no snivlling about me
(My work was the work of the land),
But I hope that my country will shout me
The price of a decent brass band.

Thump! thump! of the drum and Ta-ra-rit,
Thump! thump! and the music, its grand,
If only in dreams, or in spirit,
To ride or march after the band!
And myself and my mourners go straying,
And strolling and drifting along
With a band in the front of us playing
The tune of an old battle song!

I ask for no turn-out to bear me;
I ask not for railings or slabs,
And spare me! my country, oh, spare me!
The hearse and the long string of cabs!
I as...

Henry Lawson

The Distant Drum

Republicans! the time is coming!
Listen to the distant drumming!
Hearken to the whispers humming
In the troubled atmosphere.

Ye are born to do the toiling;
On and on, and no recoiling!
To the fighting, to the foiling
Of the wrongs that wrong us here.

Let the Loyal laugh and jeer you;
Let them in derision cheer you.
Still the cowards show they fear you
By their deeds and all they say.

Let Britannia rule for ever
Oer the wave; but never, never!
Rule a land great oceans sever
Fifteen thousand miles away.

Stained by persecutions fires
Thinned of homes and thick with spires,
They love the land that bred their sires,
Ye the Land that breeds your sons.

And your sons shall have the reaping,
And your sons shall h...

Henry Lawson

The Army Of The Rear

I listened through the music and the sounds of revelry,
And all the hollow noises of that year of Jubilee;
I heard beyond the music and beyond the local cheer,
The steady tramp of thousands that were marching in the rear.
Tramp! tramp! tramp!
They seem to shake the air,
Those never-ceasing footsteps of the outcasts in the rear.

I heard defiance ringing from the men of rags and dirt,
I heard wan woman singing that sad Song of the Shirt,
And oer the sounds of menace and moaning low and drear,
I heard the steady tramping of their feet along the rear.
Tramp! tramp! tramp!
Vibrating in the air,
Theyre swelling fast, those footsteps of the Army of the Rear!

I hate the wrongs I read about, I hate the wrongs I see!
The tramping of that army sounds as music ...

Henry Lawson

At The Beating Of A Drum

Fear ye not the stormy future, for the Battle Hymn is strong,
And the armies of Australia shall not march without a song;
The glorious words and music of Australia's song shall come
When her true hearts rush together at the beating of a drum.

We may not be there to hear it, 'twill be written in the night,
And Australia's foes shall fear it in the hour before the fight.
The glorious words and music from a lonely heart shall come
When our sons shall rush to danger at the beating of the drum.

He shall be unknown who writes it; he shall soon forgotten be,
But the song shall ring through ages as a song of liberty.
And I say the words and music of our battle hymn shall come,
When Australia wakes in anger at the beating of a drum.

Henry Lawson