The Charge Of The Light Brigade

A poem by William F. Kirk

Yoyfully, yoyfully,
Yoyfully onvard,
In dis har walley of death
Rode the sax hundred!
It ban a cinch, ay tenk,
Some geezer blundered.
"Hustle, yu Light Brigade!
Yump!" Maester Olson said;
Den in the walley of death
Go the sax hundred.

Cannon on right of dem,
Cannon on left of dem,
Cannon on top of dem,
Wolleyed and t'undered;
Smashed vith dis shot and shal,
Dey ant do wery val;
Most of dem ketching hal, -
Nearly sax hundred!

Yes, all dem sabres bare
Flash purty gude in air;
Each faller feel his hair
Standing. No vonder!
Yudas! It ant ban yob
For any coward slob,
Fighting dis Russian mob.
Ay tenk ay vudn't stand
Yeneral's blunder.

Cannon on right of dem,
Cannon on top of dem,
Cannon behind dem, tu,
Wolleyed and t'undered.
Finally say Captain Brenk,
"Ve got enuff, ay tenk,
Let's go and getting drenk."
'Bout tventy-sax com back
Out of sax hundred.

Ven skol deir glory fade?
It ban gude charge dey made,
Every von vondered.
Every von feeling blue,
'Cause dey ban brave old crew,
Yolly gude fallers, tu,
Dis har sax hundred!

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