But the foe may look for trouble when we charge them at the double,
We, the London Irish out on active service.

_Chorus._

"With our rifles on our shoulder, sure there's no one could be
bolder,
And we'll double out to France when we get warnin'
And we'll not stop long for trifles, we're the London Irish
Rifles,
When we go to fight the Germans in the mornin'.

"An' the girls: oh it will grieve them when we take the train and
leave them,
Oh! what tears the dears will weep when we are moving,
But it's just the old, old story, on the path that leads to Glory,
Sure we cannot halt for long to do our loving.
They'll see us with emotion all departing o'er the ocean,
And every maid a-weepin' for her lover;
'Good-bye' we'll hear them callin', while so many tears are fallin'
That they'd almost swamp the boat that takes us over.

_Chorus._

"With our rifles," etc.

Our colonel sang this song at a concert, thus showing the democratic
nature of the New Army, where a colonel sings the songs written in the
ranks of his own battalion.

At the ten minutes' halt which succeeded the first hour's march,
my Jersey friend spoke to me again. "Aren't there stars!" he said,
turning his face to the heavens and gripping his rifle tightly as if
for support. His wide open eyes seemed to have grown in size, and were
full of an expression I had never seen in them before. "I like the
stars," he remarked, "they're so wonderful. And to think that men are
killing each other now, this very minute!" He clanked the butt of his
gun on the ground and toyed with the handle of his sword.

Hour after hour passed by; under the light of the moon the country
looked beautiful; every pond showed a brilliant face to the heavens,
light mists seemed to hover over every farmhouse and cottage; light
winds swept through the telegraph wires; only the woods looked dark,
and there the trees seemed to be hugging the darkness around them.

On our way back a sharp shower, charged with a penetrating cold, fell.
The waterproof ground-sheets were unrolled, and we tied them over our
shoulders. When the rain passed, the water falling in drops from our
equipment glittered so brightly that it put the polished swords and
brilliant rifle butt-plates to shame.

We stole into the town at midnight, when nearly all the inhabitants
were abed. With arms at the trail, we marched along, throwing off
company afte