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Canada's Eighteen.
By W. M. MacKeracher
At Paardeberg they fell,
Within the Orange State;
They did their duty well;
They bravely met their fate.
A stubborn fight they made
Upon the level plain,
While from the barricade
The bullets poured like rain.
They fiercely charged the trench;
They took the outer line;
Who saw a visage blench?
Who heard a voice repine?
They bore the ruthless fire;
But deadly was the cost:
They lived not to retire,
Nor saw their capture lost.
No lustrous deed they wrought
To prompt the epic pen:
They only bravely fought,
And gave their lives like men.
And yet no hero's fame
That rings across the seas,
Shall e'er eclipse the name
And memory of these.
While suns shall rise and set
Upon the fatal scene,
We never shall forget
Our Canada's Eighteen.
And now, as Britain weaves
The garland of her grief,
We place among the leaves
A blood-red maple leaf.
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