The Valley of Death
Six hundred brave men gave a long loud cheer,
As on that day so bright and clear,
The sergeants took a collective breath,
'Forward the light brigade,
Charge for the guns' they said,
Though they knew not how poorly led,
As in they rode to the valley of death.
All around the horses fell,
As through they rode the Gates of Hell,
Troubled not by fear or dread,
Onward rode the brave six hundred,
All around the cannon thundered,
Just because someone had blundered,
Many brave men lay amongst the dead.
Finally they reached the Russian guns,
And those valiant English sons,
Began to swing, and slash, and hack,
In amongst the powder smoke,
Gunners reeling from the sabre stroke,
Right through the line they broke,
Before they turned to return back.
At last those lucky few,
Scarce more than one in two,
Had chance to catch their shortened breath,
Remembering their fallen friends,
Who had all met untimely ends,
Taking vows to make amends,
For those who lay in the Valley of Death.
Shower these men with honour and glory,
Forever remember their heroic story,
Those who refused to be afraid,
As they rode through the Valley of Hell,
Charging through the shot and shell,
As all around their comrades fell,
Honour the Light Brigade.