To Those Who Fought on St. Crispian’s Day

To Those Who Fought on St. Crispian’s Day

To those who fought on St. Crispian’s Day
Shew me thy scars that I may praise and laud.
Strip off thy sleeves that I may curse the day
I held my manhood cheap for but a-bed.

That day, that fair day, that glorious day
Found brother’s blood, shed for an honour’s share.
Their names, o’erflowing cups, in mem’ry stay,
And name that day with those who tip-toed there.

The gentled vile do show their wounds and laugh
That they were numbered at Crispian’s feast.
And crown-filled purses convoy far the chaff
Who have their passports made for vigils ceased.

But though I own no feats on Crispin’s Day,
My son shall ne’er forget their memory.