Riflemen Form!

By Alfred Lord Tennyson

There is a sound of thunder afar, Storm in the South that darkens the day! Storm of battle and thunder of war! Well if it do not roll our way. Storm, Storm, Riflemen form! Ready, be ready against the storm! Riflemen, Riflemen, Riflemen form! Be not deaf to the sound that warns, Be not gulld by a despots plea! Are figs of thistles? or grapes of thorns? How can a despot feel with the Free? Form, Form, Riflemen Form! Ready, be ready to meet the storm! Riflemen, Riflemen, Riflemen form! Let your reforms for a moment go! Look to your butts, and take good aims! Better a rotten borough or so Than a rotten fleet and a city in flames! Storm, Storm, Riflemen form! Ready, be ready against the storm! Riflemen, Riflemen, Riflemen form! Form, be ready to do or die! Form in Freedoms name and the Queens True we have gotsuch a faithful ally That only the Devil can tell what he means. Form, Form, Riflemen Form Ready, be ready to meet the storm! Riflemen, Riflemen, Riflemen form!