A. E. Housman: The Recruit

The Recruit

Leave your home behind, lad,  And reach your friends your hand, And go, and luck go with you  While Ludlow tower shall stand.
Oh, come you home of Sunday  When Ludlow streets are still And Ludlow bells are calling  To farm and lane and mill,
Or come you home of Monday  When Ludlow market hums And Ludlow chimes are playing  "The conquering hero comes,"
Come you home a hero,  Or come not home at all, The lads you leave will mind you  Till Ludlow tower shall fall.
And you will list the bugle  That blows in lands of morn, And make the foes of England  Be sorry you were born.
And you till trump of doomsday  On lands of morn may lie, And make the hearts of comrades  Be heavy where you die.
Leave your home behind you,  Your friends by field and town Oh, town and field will mind you  Till Ludlow tower is down.