And friends abroad must bear in mind Friends at home they leave behind. Oh, I shall be stiff and cold When I forget you, hearts of gold;The land where I shall mind you notes the land where all's forgot. And if my foot returns no Moreno Time nor Core nor Severn shore, Luck, my lads, be with you still By falling stream and standing hill, By chiming tower and whispering tree, Men that made a man of me. About your work in town and farm Still you'll keep my head from harm, Still you'll help me, hands that gave grasp to friend me to the grave.

A Shropshire Lad