| |
| WE trenched, we trumpeted and drummed, | |
| And from our mortars tons of iron hummed | |
| Ath’art the ditch, the month we bombed | |
| The Town o’ Valencieën. | |
| |
| ’Twas in the June o’ Ninety-dree | 5 |
| (The Duke o’ Yark our then Commander beën) | |
| The German Legion, Guards, and we | |
| Laid siege to Valencieën. | |
| |
| This was the first time in the war | |
| That French and English spilled each other’s gore; | 10 |
| —God knows what year will end the roar | |
| Begun at Valencieën! | |
| |
| ’Twas said that we’d no business there | |
| A-topperèn the French for disagreën; | |
| However, that’s not my affair— | 15 |
| We were at Valencieën. | |
| |
| Such snocks and slats, since war began | |
| Never knew raw recruit or veteràn: | |
| Stone-deaf therence went many a man | |
| Who served at Valencieën. | 20 |
| |
| Into the streets, ath’art the sky, | |
| A hundred thousand balls and bombs were fleën; | |
| And harmless townsfolk fell to die | |
| Each hour at Valencieën! | |
| |
| And, sweatèn wi’ the bombardiers, | 25 |
| A shell was slent to shards anighst my ears: | |
| —’Twas night the end of hopes and fears | |
| For me at Valencieën! | |
| |
| They bore my wownded frame to camp, | |
| And shut my gapèn skull, and washed en cleän, | 30 |
| And jined en wi’ a zilver clamp | |
| Thik night at Valencieën. | |
| |
| “We’ve fetched en back to quick from dead; | |
| But never more on earth while rose is red | |
| Will drum rouse Corpel!” Doctor said | 35 |
| O’ me at Valencieën. | |
| |
| ’Twer true. No voice o’ friend or foe | |
| Can reach me now, or any liveèn beën; | |
| And little have I power to know | |
| Since then at Valencieën! | 40 |
| |
| I never hear the zummer hums | |
| O’ bees; and don’t know when the cuckoo comes; | |
| But night and day I hear the bombs | |
| We threw at Valencieën…. | |
| |
| As for the Duke o’ Yark in war, | 45 |
| There be some volk whose judgment o’ en is meän; | |
| But this I say—’a was not far | |
| From great at Valencieën. | |
| |
| O’ wild wet nights, when all seems sad, | |
| My wownds come back, as though new wownds I’d had; | 50 |
| But yet—at times I’m sort o’ glad | |
| I fout at Valencieën. | |
| |
| Well: Heaven wi’ its jasper halls | |
| Is now the on’y Town I care to be in…. | |
| Good Lord, if Nick should bomb the walls | 55 |
As we did Valencieën!
1878–1897. | |
| |
