Half a league, half a league,
Half a league onward,
All in the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
"Forward, the Light Brigade!
"Charge for the puns!" he said:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
"Forward, the Light Brigade!"
Was there a man dismay'd?
Not tho' the poster knew
Someone had blunder'd:
Their's but to make reply,
Their's but to reason why,
Their's but to post and pry:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
Scamsters to right of them,
Hypesters to left of them,
Suckers in front of them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
Boldly they posted well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of Hell
Rode the six hundred.
Flash'd all their sabres bare,
Flash'd as they turn'd in air,
Sabring the scammers there,
Charging an army, while
All the world wonder'd:
Plunged in the weirdness-smoke
Right thro' the line they broke;
I-P-M-C-F
Reel'd from the sabre stroke
Shatter'd and sunder'd.
Then they rode back, but not
Not the six hundred.
Scamsters to right of them,
Hypesters to left of them,
Suckers behind them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
While verse and hero fell,
They that had post so well
Came thro' the jaws of Death
Back from the mouth of Hell,
All that was left of them,
Left of six hundred.
When can their glory fade?
O the wild charge they made!
All the world wondered.
Honor the charge they made,
Honor the Light Brigade,
Noble six hundred. |
