Do you think Phil's sick? He's been wearing a saddle and talking raspy
No, I think he's just a bit hoarse.
Do you think Phil's sick? He's been wearing a saddle and talking raspy
No, I think he's just a bit hoarse.
Forward, the Light Brigade!'
Was there a man dismay'd?
Not tho'(though) the soldiers knew
Some one had blunder'd:
Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to do and die:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon in front of them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
Boldly they rode and well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of Hell
Rode the six hundred.
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