The Volunteer - Revision history

TCDE-Team at 22:23, 4 April 2026

2026-04-04T22:23:28Z

← Older revision		Revision as of 00:23, 5 April 2026
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	''The Volunteer'' is a poem written by [[Arthur Conan Doyle]] published in the [[Daily Express]] on 22 january 1919 and collected in [[The Guards Came Through and Other Poems]] on 16 december 1919.		''The Volunteer'' is a poem written by [[Arthur Conan Doyle]] published in the [[Daily Express]] on 22 january 1919 and collected in [[The Guards Came Through and Other Poems]] on 16 december 1919.


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TCDE-Team at 22:23, 4 April 2026

2026-04-04T22:23:16Z

← Older revision		Revision as of 00:23, 5 April 2026
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	<poem>		<poem>
	'''(~~1914–1919~~)'''		'''(1914-1919)'''

	The dreams are passed and gone, old man,		The dreams are passed and gone, old man,

TCDE-Team at 22:22, 4 April 2026

2026-04-04T22:22:57Z

← Older revision		Revision as of 00:22, 5 April 2026
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	[[File:DExp-1919-01-22-p4-the-volunteer.jpg\|thumb\|200px\|right\|[[Daily Express]] (22 january 1919, p. 4)]]		[[File:DExp-1919-01-22-p4-the-volunteer.jpg\|thumb\|200px\|right\|[[Daily Express]] (22 january 1919, p. 4)]]

			<poem>
	'''(1914–1919)'''		'''(1914–1919)'''

			The dreams are passed and gone, old man,
	The dreams are passed and gone, old man,~~<br />~~		That came to you and me,
	That came to you and me,~~<br />~~		Of a six days' stunt on an east coast front,
	Of a six days' stunt on an east coast front,~~<br />~~
	And the Hun with his back to the sea.		And the Hun with his back to the sea.

			Lord, how we worked and swotted sore
	Lord, how we worked and swotted sore~~<br />~~		To be fit when the day should come!
	To be fit when the day should come!~~<br />~~		Four years, my lad, and five months more,
	Four years, my lad, and five months more,~~<br />~~
	Since first we followed the drum.		Since first we followed the drum.

			Though "Follow the drum" is a bit too grand,
	Though "Follow the drum" is a bit too grand,~~<br />~~		For we ran to no such frills;
	For we ran to no such frills;~~<br />~~		It was just the whistles of Nature's band
	It was just the whistles of Nature's band~~<br />~~
	That heartened us up the hills.		That heartened us up the hills.

			That and the toot of the corporal's flute,
	That and the toot of the corporal's flute,~~<br />~~		Until he could blow no more,
	Until he could blow no more,~~<br />~~		And the lilt of "Sussex by the Sea,"
	And the lilt of "Sussex by the Sea,"~~<br />~~
	The marching song of the corps.		The marching song of the corps.

			Those hills! My word, you would soon get fit,
	Those hills! My word, you would soon get fit,~~<br />~~		Be you ever so stale and slack,
	Be you ever so stale and slack,~~<br />~~		If you pad it with rifle and marching kit
	If you pad it with rifle and marching kit~~<br />~~
	To Rotherfield Hill and back!		To Rotherfield Hill and back!

			Drills in hall, and drills outdoors,
	Drills in hall, and drills outdoors,~~<br />~~		And drills of every type,
	And drills of every type,~~<br />~~		Till we wore our boots with forming fours,
	Till we wore our boots with forming fours,~~<br />~~
	And our coats with "Shoulder hipe!"		And our coats with "Shoulder hipe!"

			No glory ours, no swank, no pay,
	No glory ours, no swank, no pay,~~<br />~~		One dull eventless grind;
	One dull eventless grind;~~<br />~~		Find yourself, and nothing a day
	Find yourself, and nothing a day~~<br />~~
	Were the terms that the old boys signed.		Were the terms that the old boys signed.

			Just drill and march and drill again,
	Just drill and march and drill again,~~<br />~~		And swot at the old parade,
	And swot at the old parade,~~<br />~~		But they got two hundred thousand men.
	But they got two hundred thousand men.~~<br />~~
	Not bad for the old brigade!		Not bad for the old brigade!

			A good two hundred thousand came,
	A good two hundred thousand came,~~<br />~~		On the chance of that east coast fight;
	On the chance of that east coast fight;~~<br />~~		They may have been old and stiff and lame,
	They may have been old and stiff and lame,~~<br />~~
	But, by George, their hearts were right!		But, by George, their hearts were right!

			Discipline! My! "Eyes right!" they cried,
	Discipline! My! "Eyes right!" they cried,~~<br />~~		As we passed the drill hall door,
	As we passed the drill hall door,~~<br />~~		And left it at that—so we marched cock-eyed
	And left it at that—so we marched cock-eyed~~<br />~~
	From three to half-past four.		From three to half-past four.

			And solid! Why, after a real wet bout
	And solid! Why, after a real wet bout~~<br />~~		In a hole in the Flanders mud,
	In a hole in the Flanders mud,~~<br />~~		It would puzzle the Boche to fetch us out,
	It would puzzle the Boche to fetch us out,~~<br />~~
	For we couldn't get out if we would!		For we couldn't get out if we would!

			Some think we could have stood war's test,
	Some think we could have stood war's test,~~<br />~~		Some say that we could not,
	Some say that we could not,~~<br />~~		But a chap can only do his best,
	But a chap can only do his best,~~<br />~~
	And offer all he's got.		And offer all he's got.

			Fall out, the guard! The old home guard!
	Fall out, the guard! The old home guard!~~<br />~~		Pile arms! Right turn! Dismiss!
	Pile arms! Right turn! Dismiss!~~<br />~~		No grousing, even if it's hard
	No grousing, even if it's hard~~<br />~~
	To break our ranks like this.		To break our ranks like this.

			We can't show much in the way of fun
	We can't show much in the way of fun~~<br />~~		For four and a half years gone;
	For four and a half years gone;~~<br />~~		If we'd had our chance—just one! just one!—
	If we'd had our chance—just one! just one!—~~<br />~~
	Carry on, old Sport, carry on!		Carry on, old Sport, carry on!
			</poem>

TCDE-Team at 10:36, 14 July 2024

2024-07-14T10:36:36Z

New page

''The Volunteer'' is a poem written by [[Arthur Conan Doyle]] published in the [[Daily Express]] on 22 january 1919 and collected in [[The Guards Came Through and Other Poems]] on 16 december 1919.

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== Editions ==

* in ''[[Daily Express]]'' (22 january 1919 [UK])
* in ''[[The Guards Came Through and Other Poems]]'' (16 december 1919, [[John Murray]] [UK])
* in ''[[The Guards Came Through and Other Poems]]'' (1920, [[George H. Doran Co.]] [US])

== The Volunteer ==
[[File:DExp-1919-01-22-p4-the-volunteer.jpg|thumb|200px|right|[[Daily Express]] (22 january 1919, p. 4)]]

'''(1914–1919)'''

The dreams are passed and gone, old man, 
That came to you and me, 
Of a six days' stunt on an east coast front, 
And the Hun with his back to the sea.

Lord, how we worked and swotted sore 
To be fit when the day should come! 
Four years, my lad, and five months more, 
Since first we followed the drum.

Though "Follow the drum" is a bit too grand, 
For we ran to no such frills; 
It was just the whistles of Nature's band 
That heartened us up the hills.

That and the toot of the corporal's flute, 
Until he could blow no more, 
And the lilt of "Sussex by the Sea," 
The marching song of the corps.

Those hills! My word, you would soon get fit, 
Be you ever so stale and slack, 
If you pad it with rifle and marching kit 
To Rotherfield Hill and back!

Drills in hall, and drills outdoors, 
And drills of every type, 
Till we wore our boots with forming fours, 
And our coats with "Shoulder hipe!"

No glory ours, no swank, no pay, 
One dull eventless grind; 
Find yourself, and nothing a day 
Were the terms that the old boys signed.

Just drill and march and drill again, 
And swot at the old parade, 
But they got two hundred thousand men. 
Not bad for the old brigade!

A good two hundred thousand came, 
On the chance of that east coast fight; 
They may have been old and stiff and lame, 
But, by George, their hearts were right!

Discipline! My! "Eyes right!" they cried, 
As we passed the drill hall door, 
And left it at that—so we marched cock-eyed 
From three to half-past four.

And solid! Why, after a real wet bout 
In a hole in the Flanders mud, 
It would puzzle the Boche to fetch us out, 
For we couldn't get out if we would!

Some think we could have stood war's test, 
Some say that we could not, 
But a chap can only do his best, 
And offer all he's got.

Fall out, the guard! The old home guard! 
Pile arms! Right turn! Dismiss! 
No grousing, even if it's hard 
To break our ranks like this.

We can't show much in the way of fun 
For four and a half years gone; 
If we'd had our chance—just one! just one!— 
Carry on, old Sport, carry on!

----
* [[Sir Arthur Conan Doyle:Complete Works|Back to Complete Works]]
* [[Sir Arthur Conan Doyle|Back to Conan Doyle]]