large/5754/balladwhitehorse_1404_librivox_64kb_mp3/balladofthewhitehorse_04_chesterton_64kb_34
large/5754/balladwhitehorse_1404_librivox_64kb_mp3/balladofthewhitehorse_04_chesterton_64kb
English
5754
"The red print on my forehead, Small flame for a red star, In the van of the violent marching, then When the sky is torn of the trumpets ten, And the hands of the happy howling men Fling wide the gates of war. THE RED PRINT ON MY FOREHEAD SMALL FLAME FOR A RED STAR IN THE VAN OF THE VIOLENT MARCHING THEN WHEN THE SKY IS TORN AND THE TRUMPETS TEN AND THE HANDS OF THE HAPPY HOWLING MEN FLING WIDE THE GATES OF WAR
pride is an ass, And Jack's away with his master's lass, And the miser is banged with all his brass, The farmer with all his flails; Tales that tumble and tales that trick, Yet end not all in scorning-- Of kings and clowns in a merry plight, And the clock gone wrong and the world gone right, That the mummers sing upon Christmas night And Christmas Day in the morning. "Now here is a good warrant," Cried Alfred, "by my sword; For he that is struck for an ill servant Should be a kind lord. "He that has been a servant Knows more than priests and kings, But he that has been an ill servant, He knows all earthly things. "Pride flings frail palaces at the sky, As a man flings up sand, But the firm feet of humility Take hold of heavy land. "Pride juggles with her toppling towers, They strike the sun and cease, But the firm feet of humility They grip the ground like trees. "He that hath failed in a little thing Hath a sign upon the brow; And the Earls of the Great Army Have no such seal to show. ALES WERE GREED AS AN APE AND PRIED AS AN ASS AND JACKS AWAY WITH HIS MASTER'S LASS AND THE MISSER IS BANGED WITH ALL HIS BRASS AND THE FARMER WITH ALL HIS FLAILS TALES THAT TUMBLE AND TALES THE TRICK YET END NOT ALL IN SCORNING OF KINGS AND CLOWNS IN A MERRY FLIGHT AND THE CLOCK GONE WRONG AND THE WORLD GONE RIGHT AND THE MUMMERS SING UPON CHRISTMAS NIGHT AND CHRISTMAS DAY IN THE MORNING NOW HERE IS A GOOD WARRANT CRIED ALFRED BY MY SWORD FOR HE THAT IS STRUCK FOR AN ILL SERVANT SHOULD BE A KIND LORD HE THAT HAS BEEN A SERVANT KNOWS MORE THAN PRIESTS AND KINGS BUT HE THAT HAS BEEN AN ILL SERVANT HE KNOWS ALL EARTHLY THINGS PRIDE FLINGS FRAIL PALACES AT THE SKY AS A MAN FLINGS UP SAND BUT THE FIRM FEET OF HUMILITY TAKE HOLD OF HEAVY LAND PRIDE JUGGLES WITH HER TOPPLING TOWERS THEY STRIKE THE SUN AND CEASE BUT THE FIRM FEET OF HUMILITY THEY GRIP THE GROUND LIKE TREES HE THAT HATH FAILED IN A LITTLE THING HATH A SIGN UPON HIS BROW AND THE EARLS OF THE GREAT ARMY HAVE NO SUCH SEAL TO SHOW
large/5754/balladwhitehorse_1404_librivox_64kb_mp3/balladofthewhitehorse_04_chesterton_64kb
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