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Altitude: 37 m. ASL.
Region:
United Kingdom (UK) > Essex
Cache type: Traditional
Size: Micro
Status:
Ready for Search
Date hidden: 27-02-2012
Date created: 27-02-2012
Date published: 27-02-2012
Last modification: 27-02-2012 
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Rated as: n/a
Cache attributes
Description
EN
There's a breathless hush in the
Close to-night
Ten to make and the match to win
A bumping pitch and a blinding light,
An hour to play, and the last man in.
And it's not for the sake of a ribboned coat.
Or the selfish hope of a season's fame,
But his captain's hand on his shoulder smote:
"Play up! Play up! And play the game!"
The sand of the desert is sodden
red
- Red with the wreck of a square that broke;
The Gatling's jammed and the colonel dead,
And the regiment blind with dust and smoke.
The river of death has brimmed its banks,
And England's far, and Honour a name,
But the voice of a schoolboy rallies the ranks -
"Play up! Play up! And play the game!"
While in her place the school is set,
Every one of her sons must hear,
And none that hears it dare forget.
This they all with a joyful mind
Bear through life like a torch in flame,
And falling fling to the host behind
- "Play up! Play up! And play the game!"
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