Too thin the line that charged the Heights And scrambled in the clay. Too thin the Eastern Township Scot Who showed them all the way, And perhaps had you not fallen, You might be what Brock became But not one in ten thousand knows your name. To say the name, MacDonnell, It would bring no bugle call But the Redcoats stayed beside you When they saw the General fall. Twas MacDonnell raised the banner then And set the Heights aflame, But not one in ten thousand knows your name. You brought the field all standing with your courage and your luck But unknown to most, you're lying there beside old General Brock. So you know what it is to scale the Heights and fall just short of fame And have not one in ten thousand know your name. At Queenston now, the General on his tower stands alone And there's lichen on 'MacDonnell' carved upon that weathered stone In a corner of the monument to glory you could claim, But not one in ten thousand knows your name. You brought the field all standing with your courage and your luck But unknown to most, you're lying there beside old General Brock. So you know what it is to scale the Heights and fall just short of fame And have not one in ten thousand know your nameTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
