Volume 150 — THE BATTLE OF THE PASS.
Reading edition
["This Bill was 'selling the pass.'"—Sir William Byles, in the House, on The Military Service Bill.]
"What though against our sacred front They muster, miles on miles, I am resolved to stick the brunt," Said bold Horatius Byles; "For Liberty I'll take my stand, Just like a stout Berserk, And still defend with bloody brand Our glorious Right to Shirk. "We've Simon, worth four columns' length; We've Redmond, doughty dog; Thomas and those twin towers of strength, Pringle and whole-souled Hogge; And Outhwaite—not our dearest foe, Bulgar or Bosch or Turk, Could wish to plant a ruder blow For Britain's Right to Shirk. "And, lastly, should the Tyrant storm The pass for which we fight, It must be o'er the riddled form Of Me, the Champion Knight; Meanwhile, on caitiffs who would keep The pledge we bade them burke, My lusty battle-cry shall leap:— 'God and our Right to Shirk!'" The scrap was over. There he lay Prone on the reeking grass; "Simon," his faint lips strove to say, "Somebody's sold the pass!" "True," said the other; "I descry The Northcliffe's hand at work." "Farewell!" said Byles; "'tis sweet to die For Britain's Right to Shirk!"
O.S.