The Call

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Far and near, high and clear,
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Hark to the call of War.
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Over the gorse and the golden dells,
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Ringing and swinging the clamorous bells,
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raying and saying of wild farewells:
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War! War! War!


[Verse 2]
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High and low, all must go:
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Hark to the shout of War!
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Leave to the women the harvest yield;
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Gird ye, men, for the sinister field;
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A sabre instead of a scythe to wield;
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War! Red war!


[Verse 3]
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Rich and poor, lord and boor,
Continúa después del anuncio
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Hark to the blast of War!
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Tinker and tailor and millionaire,
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Actor in triumph and priest in prayer,
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Comrades now in the hell out there,
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Sweep to the fire of War!


[Verse 4]
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Prince and page, sot and sage,
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Hark to the roar of War!
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Poet, professor and circus clown,
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Chimney-sweep and fop of the town,
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Into the pot and be melted down:
F                    F F F# F#
Into the pot of War!


[Verse 5]
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Women all, hear the call
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The pitiless call of War!
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Look your last on your dearest ones,
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Brothers and husbands, fathers, sons:
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Swift they go to the ravenous guns,
F#                        F# G G
The gluttonous guns of War.


[Verse 6]
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Everywhere thrill the air
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The maniac bells of War.
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There will be little of sleeping to-night;
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There will be wailing and weeping to-night;
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Death's red sickle is reaping to-night:
G    G    G    G
War! War! War! War!
G    G    G    G
War! War! War! War!
Gb
War!