A Hero from Stalybridge Far away from dear old England On Belgium's sandy plain I knelt by a wounded comrade, And called him by his name He had been struck by shrapnel I gently raised his head "Come Jack, you will be better, soon, Cheer up, my lad" I said. He looked at me, and sweetly smiled, Then answered with a sigh, "I'm going home to glory, but I'm not afraid to die; What is yon that I can see Just beyond the ridge, It looks to me, in the distance Like dear old Stalybridg