{
 "id": "robert-w-service/fighting-mac",
 "title": "“Fighting Mac”",
 "ordinal": null,
 "subtitle": "A Life Tragedy",
 "poet": "Robert W. Service",
 "poet_slug": "robert-w-service",
 "language": "en",
 "book": "Songs of a Sourdough",
 "book_slug": "songs-of-a-sourdough",
 "book_kind": "volume",
 "sequence": 26,
 "container": null,
 "epigraph": null,
 "first_published": {
  "year": 1907,
  "venue": "Songs of a Sourdough (1907)",
  "note": "First located printing is this volume; an earlier periodical printing has not been established.",
  "uncertain": false,
  "sources": [
   "https://archive.org/details/songsofsourdoug00serv"
  ]
 },
 "source": {
  "kind": "standard-ebooks",
  "repo": "standardebooks/robert-w-service_songs-of-a-sourdough",
  "file": "poetry.xhtml",
  "upstream": [
   "https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25546",
   "https://archive.org/details/songsofsourdoug00serv"
  ],
  "rights": "public domain (SE dedication; underlying text pre-1931)"
 },
 "verification": {
  "level": "structural-only",
  "last_checked": "2026-08-20"
 },
 "stats": {
  "n_lines": 62,
  "n_stanzas": 9,
  "n_parts": 0,
  "longest_line_chars": 55,
  "max_indent": 1
 },
 "site_ready": true,
 "parts": [],
 "stanzas": [
  [
   {
    "text": "A pistol shot rings round and round the world:",
    "indent": 0
   },
   {
    "text": "In pitiful defeat a warrior lies.",
    "indent": 1
   },
   {
    "text": "A last defiance to dark Death is hurled,",
    "indent": 0
   },
   {
    "text": "A last wild challenge shocks the sunlit skies.",
    "indent": 1
   },
   {
    "text": "Alone he falls with wide, wan, woeful eyes:",
    "indent": 1
   },
   {
    "text": "Eyes that could smile at death⁠—could not face shame.",
    "indent": 0
   }
  ],
  [
   {
    "text": "Alone, alone he paced his narrow room,",
    "indent": 0
   },
   {
    "text": "In the bright sunshine of that Paris day;",
    "indent": 1
   },
   {
    "text": "Saw in his thought the awful hand of doom;",
    "indent": 0
   },
   {
    "text": "Saw in his dream his glory pass away;",
    "indent": 1
   },
   {
    "text": "Tried in his heart, his weary heart, to pray:",
    "indent": 1
   },
   {
    "text": "“O God! who made me, give me strength to face",
    "indent": 0
   },
   {
    "text": "The spectre of this bitter, black disgrace.”",
    "indent": 0
   }
  ],
  [
   {
    "text": "The burn brawls darkly down the shaggy glen,",
    "indent": 0
   },
   {
    "text": "The bee-kissed heather blooms around the door;",
    "indent": 1
   },
   {
    "text": "He sees himself a barefoot boy again,",
    "indent": 0
   },
   {
    "text": "Bending o’er page of legendary lore.",
    "indent": 1
   },
   {
    "text": "He hears the pibroch, grips the red claymore,",
    "indent": 1
   },
   {
    "text": "Runs with the Fiery Cross a clansman true,",
    "indent": 0
   },
   {
    "text": "Sworn kinsman of Rob Roy and Roderick Dhu.",
    "indent": 0
   }
  ],
  [
   {
    "text": "Eating his heart out with a wild desire,",
    "indent": 0
   },
   {
    "text": "One day, behind his counter trim and neat,",
    "indent": 1
   },
   {
    "text": "He hears a sound that sets his brain afire⁠—",
    "indent": 0
   },
   {
    "text": "The Highlanders are marching down the street.",
    "indent": 1
   },
   {
    "text": "Oh, how the pipes shrill out, the mad drums beat!",
    "indent": 1
   },
   {
    "text": "“On to the gates of Hell, my Gordons gay!”",
    "indent": 0
   },
   {
    "text": "He flings his hated yardstick far away.",
    "indent": 0
   }
  ],
  [
   {
    "text": "He sees the sullen pass, high-crowned with snow,",
    "indent": 0
   },
   {
    "text": "Where Afghans cower with eyes of gleaming hate.",
    "indent": 1
   },
   {
    "text": "He hurls himself against the hidden foe.",
    "indent": 0
   },
   {
    "text": "They try to rally⁠—ah, too late, too late!",
    "indent": 1
   },
   {
    "text": "Again, defenceless, with fierce eyes that wait",
    "indent": 1
   },
   {
    "text": "For death, he stands, like baited bull at bay,",
    "indent": 0
   },
   {
    "text": "And flouts the Boers, that mad Majuba day.",
    "indent": 0
   }
  ],
  [
   {
    "text": "He sees again the murderous Sudan,",
    "indent": 0
   },
   {
    "text": "Blood-slaked and rapine swept. He seems to stand",
    "indent": 1
   },
   {
    "text": "Upon the gory plain of Omdurman.",
    "indent": 0
   },
   {
    "text": "Then Magersfontein, and supreme command",
    "indent": 1
   },
   {
    "text": "Over his Highlanders. To shake his hand",
    "indent": 1
   },
   {
    "text": "A King is proud, and princes call him friend,",
    "indent": 0
   },
   {
    "text": "And glory crowns his life⁠—and now the end.",
    "indent": 0
   }
  ],
  [
   {
    "text": "The awful end. His eyes are dark with doom;",
    "indent": 0
   },
   {
    "text": "He hears the shrapnel shrieking overhead:",
    "indent": 1
   },
   {
    "text": "He sees the ravaged ranks, the flame-stabbed gloom.",
    "indent": 0
   },
   {
    "text": "Oh, to have fallen! the battlefield his bed,",
    "indent": 1
   },
   {
    "text": "With Wauchope and his glorious brother-dead.",
    "indent": 1
   },
   {
    "text": "Why was he saved for this, for this? And now",
    "indent": 0
   },
   {
    "text": "He raises the revolver to his brow.",
    "indent": 0
   }
  ],
  [
   {
    "text": "In many a Highland home, framed with rude art,",
    "indent": 0
   },
   {
    "text": "You’ll find his portrait, rough-hewn, stern and square:",
    "indent": 1
   },
   {
    "text": "It’s graven in the Fuyam fellah’s heart;",
    "indent": 0
   },
   {
    "text": "The Ghurka reads it at his evening prayer;",
    "indent": 1
   },
   {
    "text": "The raw lands know it, where the fierce suns glare;",
    "indent": 1
   },
   {
    "text": "The Dervish fears it. Honour to his name,",
    "indent": 0
   },
   {
    "text": "Who holds aloft the shield of England’s fame.",
    "indent": 0
   }
  ],
  [
   {
    "text": "Mourn for our hero, men of Northern race!",
    "indent": 0
   },
   {
    "text": "We do not know his sin; we only know",
    "indent": 1
   },
   {
    "text": "His sword was keen. He laughed death in the face,",
    "indent": 0
   },
   {
    "text": "And struck, for Empire’s sake, a giant blow.",
    "indent": 1
   },
   {
    "text": "His arm was strong. Ah! well they learnt, the foe.",
    "indent": 1
   },
   {
    "text": "The echo of his deeds is ringing yet,",
    "indent": 0
   },
   {
    "text": "Will ring for aye. All else⁠ ⁠… let us forget.",
    "indent": 0
   }
  ]
 ]
}