Robert W. Service
A Zouave, wounded, in a ditch, and knowing death was
nigh, He laughed with joy: Ah! here is where I settle ere I
die. He clutched his rifle once again, and long he aimed and
well . . . A shot! Beside his victims ten the Uhlan Captain fell.
They dragged the wounded Zouave out; their rage was like a flame.
With bayonets they pinned him down, until their Major came.
A blonde, full-blooded man he was, and arrogant of eye ;
He stared to see with shattered skull his favourite Cap tain lie.
Nay, do not finish him so quick, this foreign swine/ he cried ;
Go nail him to the big church door: he shall be crucified.
With bayonets through hands and feet they nailed the
Zouave there, And there was anguish in his eyes, and horror in his
stare ; Water! A single drop! he moaned; but how they
jeered at him, And mocked him with an empty cup, and saw his sight
grow dim;
And as in agony of death with blood his lips were wet, The Prussian Major gaily laughed, and lit a cigarette.
But mid the white-faced villagers who cowered in horror by,
Was one who saw the woeful sight, who heard the woe ful cry :
Water ! One little drop, I beg ! For love of Christ who died. . .
It was the little Jean Desprez who turned and stole aside ;
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