LIZZIE STOREY 19 



Wild is the game, the blood doth flow, still 



gallantly stands she ; 

 Wild is the strife of death or life, of life and victory. 



The robber now, with coward hand, doth seize her 



flowing hair, 

 And throws her clown, and drags her round, and 



strikes her here and there ; 

 She's up ! see, see her rise again, and like Britannia 



stand 

 She tears the mask from off his face so gallant 



and so grand. 



To help Ms comrade in the strife, the outside 



robber now, 

 With crash an' slash and deadly oath, the window's 



coming through ; 

 Still with a weapon in her hand, she strikes him 



gallantly; 

 He and his coward comrade now, they for their 



lives do fly. 



Weave, weave a wreath of laurel, Northumbrians 



daughters fair. 

 Entwine it with the tartan and heather-bell so 



rare; 

 Place it on Lizzie Storey's brow, that fought so 



gallantly, 

 And crown our dauntless heroine the Queen of 



Victory. 



