An adaptation;
That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him depart; his passport shall be made,
And crowns for convoy put into his purse;
We would not die in that man's company
That fears his fellowship to die with us.
This day is call'd the journey to the championship.
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam'd,
And rouse him at the name of Sheffield United.
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say 'To-morrow is the day we did it.
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,
And say 'These wounds I had on that day at Wembley.
Old men and Linz forget; yet all shall be forgot,
But they will remember, with advantages,
What feats they did that day. Then shall our names,
Familiar in his mouth as household words-
Mic, Metal and Grunpy,
Foxy and Linz, Swiss and Hartley
Be in their flowing cups freshly rememb'red.
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And the Blades shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered-
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For Blades to-day that shed their blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition;
And gentlemen and tarts in England now-a-bed
Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon the day we did it.