But the Engineer looked down,
With his hand on the starting-bar,
`Ride ye back to the town,
Ye know what my orders are,
Maybe they're wanting the Scotch Brigade
Up on those hills afar.

`I am no soldier at all,
Only an engineer,
But I could not bear that the folk should say,
Over in Scotland -- Glasgow way --
That Hector Clark stayed here
With the Scotch Brigade till the foe were gone,
With ever a rail to run her on.
Ready behind! Stand clear!

`Fireman, get you gone
Into the armoured train,
I will drive her alone;
One more trip -- and perhaps the last --
With a well-raked fire and an open blast --
Hark to the rifles again.'

. . . . .

On through the choking dark,
Never a lamp nor a light,
Never an engine spark,
Showing her hurried flight.
Over the lonely plain