A New Song on the

              ZULU WAR.

You sons of Britannia stand to your gun.
Get ready your soldier's the time it has come,
And likewise your shipping without more delay
And straight off to Zulu Land send them away.

                                    CHORUS.

I've reason to fear you'll want them all there,
The Zulu's are dangerous boys I declare

At Rorke's Drift a disaster too sad to relate,
A whole British column they met a defeat,
Overpowered by numbers they were forced to yield
And their lives and their colours they lost in the field.

With our rifles and shell, ammunition as well,
Into the hands of the Zulu's they fell.

Our brave British soldier's can fight three to one,
Of any other nation that is under the sun,
They've done it before on Inkerman's height
When the second division showed how they could fight

But an old Brigadeer, Penefatter was there,
He had the heart of an Irishman who never knew fear

Our soldier's are able to face the proud foe,
We wish them God speed wherever they go.
We wish them God speed and may victory Crown
And the courage of Citteway soon they'll pull down.

And the colours regain of the soldier's even slain,
Of the brave 24th, upon that bloody plain.

Many a mother heart-broken with woe,
For the loss of her son who is now lying low,
And many another for brother or friend,
For cousins or sweethearts they'll ne'er see again.

But I hope that in Heaven their souls are at rest,
In the Heavenly mansion along with the blest;

Sir Garnet is going to take our command
We know he's a son of our own native land.
He'll conquer the Zulu and straight way he will bring
As a Troplin to England, the proud Zulu King,

And exhibit him there, I vow and declare,
Where he'll get an odd clout for to keep up his hair

Our soldier's are leaving their own naive shore
We wish them safe landed in England once more,
It being a difficult task the Zulu to crush,
For the whole of their fighting will be in the bush.