The Storming Party
The Storming Party is a poem written by Arthur Conan Doyle first published in The Speaker: The Liberal Review on 6 february 1892.
Editions
- in The Speaker (6 february 1892 [UK])
- in Songs of Action (1898-1916, Smith, Elder & Co. [UK])
- in Songs of Action (august 1898, Charles Scribner's Sons [US])
- in Songs of Action (september 1898, Doubleday, Page & Co. [US])
- in Songs of Action (1918-1920, John Murray [UK])
- in The Poems of Arthur Conan Doyle (1922-1928, John Murray [UK])
The Storming Party
Original version (The Speaker)
Said Ted Leroy to Barrow,
"Though the breach is steep and narrow,
If we only gain the summit
It is odds we have the fort.
I have ten and you have twenty,
And the thirty should be plenty,
With Henderson and Henty
And McDermott in support."
Said Barrow to Leroy,
"It's a solid job, my boy,
For they've flanked it,
And they've banked it,
And they've bored it with a mine.
But it's only fifty paces
Ere we look them in the faces,
And the men are in their places,
With their toes upon the line."
Said Ted Leroy to Barrow,
"See that first ray, like an arrow,
How it tinges
All the fringes
Of the heavy drifting skies!
My orders are, begin it
At five thirty to the minute;
So at thirty-one I'm in it,
Or my junior gets his rise.
"We'll see the signal rocket,
And — Barrow, what's that locket—
That turquoise-studded locket,
Which you lifted from your pocket
And are pressing with a kiss?
Turquoise-studded, spiral-twisted,
Ah, 'tis it! And I had missed it
From her chain, and you have kissed it!
Barrow! Villain! What is this?"
"Leroy, I had a warning
That my time has come this morning,
So I speak with frankness, scorning
That my last breath should be false.
Yes, it's hers, this golden trinket,
Little turquoise-studded trinket,
She never gave it — do not think it,
For I stole it in a waltz.
"As we danced I gently drew it
From the chain. She never knew it.
But I love her, yes, I love her!
I am candid, I confess;
But I never breathed it — never!
For I knew 'twas vain endeavour.
And she loved you — loved you ever!
Would to God she loved you less!
"Barrow, villain, you shall pay me,
Me! Your comrade! to betray me!
I need no man's word that Amy
Is as true as wife can be;
She to give a man a locket!
She would rather — Ha! the rocket!
Hi, McDougall!
Blow the bugle!
Yorkshires! Yorkshires! follow me!"
Said Ted Leroy to Amy,
"Well, wifie, you may blame me,
For my temper overcame me,
When he told me of his shame.
And when I saw him lying,
In a heap of dead and dying,
Why, poor devil, I was trying
To forget, and not to blame.
"And the locket — I unclasped it.
From the fingers that still grasped it,
He told me how he got it,
How he stole it in a waltz!"
And she listened leaden-hearted.
Oh, the weary day they parted!
For she loved him, ah, she loved him.
For his youth, and for his truth,
And for those dying words so false.
Collected volumes version
In color the differences with the original text published in The Speaker.
Said Paul
Leroy to Barrow,
'Though the breach
is steep and narrow,
If we only gain the summit
Then it's
odds we hold
the fort.
You
have ten and I
have twenty,
And the thirty should be plenty,
With Henderson and Henty
And McDermott in support.'
Said Barrow to Leroy,
'It's a solid job, my boy,
For they've flanked it, and they've banked it,
And they've bored it with a mine.
But it's only fifty paces
Ere we look them in the faces;
And the men are in their places,
With their toes upon the line.'
Said Paul
Leroy to Barrow,
'See that first ray, like an arrow,
How it tinges all the fringes
Of the sullen
drifting skies.
They told me to
begin it
At five-thirty to the minute,
And
at thirty-one I'm in it,
Or my sub will
get his rise.
'So we'll wait
the signal rocket,
Till...
Barrow, show
that locket,
That turquoise-studded locket,
Which you slipped
from out your pocket
And are pressing with a kiss!
Turquoise-studded, spiral-twisted,
It is hers!
And I had missed
it
From her chain; and you have kissed it:
Barrow, villain, what is this?'
'Leroy, I had a warning,
That my time has come this morning,
So I speak with frankness, scorning
To deny the thing that's true.
Yes, it's Amy's, is the
trinket,
Little turquoise-studded trinket,
Not her gift — oh, never
think it!
For her thoughts were all for you.
'As we danced I gently drew it
From her chain — she never knew it
But I love her — yes, I love her:
I am candid, I confess.
But I never told
her, never,
For I knew 'twas vain endeavour,
And she loved you—loved you ever,
Would to God she loved you less!'
'Barrow, Barrow
, you shall pay me!
Me,
your comrade,
to betray me!
Well I know that little
Amy
Is as true as wife can be.
She to give this love-badged
locket!
She had
rather...
Ha,
the rocket!
Hi, McDougall! Sound
the bugle!
Yorkshires,
Yorkshires,
follow me!'
Said Paul
Leroy to Amy,
'Well, wifie, you may blame me,
For my passion
overcame me,
When he told me of his shame;
But when I saw him lying,
Dead amid a ring of
dying,
Why, poor devil, I was trying
To forget, and not to blame.
'And this
locket,
I unclasped it
From the fingers that still grasped it:
He told me how he got it,
How he stole it in a valse
.'
And she listened leaden-hearted:
Oh, the weary day they parted!
For she loved him — yes,
she loved him—
For his youth and for his truth,
And for those dying words,
so false.
