Ewart Alan Mackintosh
163
But the dead men's hands were beckoning
And I knew that I must go.
The dead men's eyes were watching, lass,
Their lips were asking too:
We faced it out and paid the price—
Are we betrayed by you?...
But you 'll forgive me yet, my dear,
Because of what you know,
I can look my dead friends in the face
As I couldn't two months ago.
