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<h2> Isandlwana </h2>
<p><i>Scarlet coats, and crash o' the band,<br/>
The grey of a pauper's gown,<br/>
A soldier's grave in Zululand,<br/>
And a woman in Brecon Town.</i><br/>
<br/>
My little lad for a soldier boy,<br/>
(Mothers o' Brecon Town!)<br/>
My eyes for tears and his for joy<br/>
When he went from Brecon Town,<br/>
His for the flags and the gallant sights<br/>
His for the medals and his for the fights,<br/>
And mine for the dreary, rainy nights<br/>
At home in Brecon Town.<br/>
<br/>
They say he's laid beneath a tree,<br/>
(Come back to Brecon Town!)<br/>
Shouldn't I know? — I was there to see:<br/>
(It's far to Brecon Town!)<br/>
It's me that keeps it trim and drest<br/>
With a briar there and a rose by his breast —<br/>
The English flowers he likes the best<br/>
That I bring from Brecon Town.<br/>
<br/>
And I sit beside him — him and me,<br/>
(We're back to Brecon Town.)<br/>
To talk of the things that used to be<br/>
(Grey ghosts of Brecon Town);<br/>
I know the look o' the land and sky,<br/>
And the bird that builds in the tree near by,<br/>
And times I hear the jackals cry,<br/>
And me in Brecon Town.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Golden grey on miles of sand<br/>
The dawn comes creeping down;<br/>
It's day in far off Zululand<br/>
And night in Brecon Town.</i><br/></p>
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