It’s not the fabled Guardsman dressed in Scarlet and Black,
Nor the dashing Lancer pictured leading the attack,
The backbone of the Army, seen at Longstop, Ypres, and Ghent,
Are the Yoemen of England, the County Regiment.
Two hundred years of history, plus one hundred more,
Are emblazoned on Battle Flags, too many to keep score,
They wore the rose at Minden, fed the poppies of Verdun,
They carried England’s Colours, grandfather, father, son.
Its not that Englishmen are fond of wearing soldiers garb,
Or have the wish to carry arms, or feel the foeman’s barb,
But should a foreign despot dare to breach England’s fair shore,
Then with a hundred County Regiments, he will have to tally score.
So wether on the Imjim, in Rangoon, or Khyber Pass,
They proudly wear the Uniform as did their forbears in the past,
In a hundred different outposts on all five continents,
You’ll find the men of England, in the County Regiments.