Just a few lines of verse about the Royal Irish Rifles at Neuve
Chapelle.--Yours truly,
No. 9180 RIFLEMAN J. DICKSON,
_"A" Coy., 3rd Battalion Royal Irish Rifles, Dublin._
Come, please just pay attention, and a story I will tell
Of how the gallant R.I.R.'s were the first in Neuve Chapelle;
Colonel Laurie gave the order for the regiment to advance,
And when they met the Germans our boys did make them dance.
With bayonets fixed we rushed them, though outnumbered five to one;
Each one did prove a hero, and many a gallant deed was done;
Our noble Colonel, he was killed, our Major fell as well,
And a score of our brave officers lost their lives at Neuve Chapelle.
Our men were lost in hundreds, no regiment could do more,
And when the fight was over our officers numbered four;
Yet manfully they struggled amidst that living hell,
And out of all the British Army were the first in Neuve Chapelle.
Then here's to the gallant R.I.R., those riflemen so brave,
Who nobly did their duty and found a soldier's grave;
So may their glory ever shine, for they have proved their worth,
And laurels brought to Ireland for the honour of the North.
"THE MAN OF SORROWS."
God hath sent thee many trials,
But strength is as thy day;
Do not despair or say, my child,
"I have no heart to pray."
For God's ways are not your ways,
And tho' thou art bereft
Of all that's most endearing,
There is one comfort left.
When a dear one has departed
To enter into rest,
And you feel so broken-hearted
That you cannot say "'Tis best";
There is One Who will always help you
And bring you great relief:
For He was a Man of Sorrows
And acquainted sore with grief.
When your dearest idol's taken
And you are dumb with pain;
When your faith in man is shaken
And everything seems vain,
There is One you can rely on,
Tho' of sinners you are chief:
For He was a Man of Sorrows
And acquainted sore with grief.
Oh! weary, wandering, wilful child,
Think of that dying thief,
Who sought his Saviour, e'en tho' late,
In the bitterness of grief;
And say no more you are alone,
Bereft of every friend:
The Man of Sorrows is your stay
And comfort to the end.
--DORCAS SKEFFINGTON.
* * * * *