Welcome to the APBWeb.
Results 1 to 7 of 7
  1. #1
    Piggybank Cop's Avatar
    Piggybank Cop is offline Nobody important.
    Join Date
    05-17-06
    Location
    Richmond VA
    Posts
    2,207
    Rep Power
    645057

    So we were talking of soldiers;

    So we were talking of soldiers; it’s always good to see both sides of the coin.

    The Charge of the Light Brigade
    Alfred, Lord Tennyson

    1.
    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 guns!" he said:
    Into the valley of Death
    Rode the six hundred.


    2.
    "Forward, the Light Brigade!"
    Was there a man dismay'd?
    Not tho' the soldier knew
    Someone had blunder'd:
    Their's not to make reply,
    Their's not to reason why,
    Their's but to do and die:
    Into the valley of Death
    Rode the six hundred.


    3.
    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.


    4.
    Flash'd all their sabres bare,
    Flash'd as they turn'd in air,
    Sabring the gunners there,
    Charging an army, while
    All the world wonder'd:
    Plunged in the battery-smoke
    Right thro' the line they broke;
    Cossack and Russian
    Reel'd from the sabre stroke
    Shatter'd and sunder'd.
    Then they rode back, but not
    Not the six hundred.


    5.
    Cannon to right of them,
    Cannon to left of them,
    Cannon behind them
    Volley'd and thunder'd;
    Storm'd at with shot and shell,
    While horse and hero fell,
    They that had fought so well
    Came thro' the jaws of Death
    Back from the mouth of Hell,
    All that was left of them,
    Left of six hundred.


    6.
    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.

    Copied from Poems of Alfred Tennyson,
    J. E. Tilton and Company, Boston, 1870



    --------------------------------------------------------------------------

    The Last of the Light Brigade

    There were thirty million English who talked of England's might,
    There were twenty broken troopers who lacked a bed for the night.
    They had neither food nor money, they had neither service nor trade;
    They were only shiftless soldiers, the last of the Light Brigade.

    They felt that life was fleeting; they knew not that art was long,
    That though they were dying of famine, they lived in deathless song.
    They asked for a little money to keep the wolf from the door;
    And the thirty million English sent twenty pounds and four !

    They laid their heads together that were scarred and lined and grey;
    Keen were the Russian sabres, but want was keener than they;
    And an old Troop-Sergeant muttered, "Let us go to the man who writes
    The things on Balaclava the kiddies at school recites."

    They went without bands or colours, a regiment ten-file strong,
    To look for the Master-singer who had crowned them all in his song;
    And, waiting his servant's order, by the garden gate they stayed,
    A desolate little cluster, the last of the Light Brigade.

    They strove to stand to attention, to straighen the toil-bowed back;
    They drilled on an empty stomach, the loose-knit files fell slack;
    With stooping of weary shoulders, in garments tattered and frayed,
    They shambled into his presence, the last of the Light Brigade.

    The old Troop-Sergeant was spokesman, and "Beggin' your pardon," he said,
    "You wrote o' the Light Brigade, sir. Here's all that isn't dead.
    An' it's all come true what you wrote, sir, regardin' the mouth of hell;
    For we're all of us nigh to the workhouse, an' we thought we'd call an' tell.

    "No, thank you, we don't want food, sir; but couldn't you take an' write
    A sort of 'to be continued' and 'see next page' o' the fight?
    We think that someone has blundered, an' couldn't you tell 'em how?
    You wrote we were heroes once, sir. Please, write we are starving now."

    The poor little army departed, limping and lean and forlorn.
    And the heart of the Master-singer grew hot with "the scorn of scorn."
    And he wrote for them wonderful verses that swept the land like flame,
    Till the fatted souls of the English were scourged with the thing called Shame.

    O thirty million English that babble of England's might,
    Behold there are twenty heroes who lack their food to-night;
    Our children's children are lisping to "honour the charge they made - "
    And we leave to the streets and the workhouse the charge of the Light Brigade!

    Title : The Last of the Light Brigade
    Poet : Rudyard Kipling
    --------------------------------------------------------------------------

    I don’t want your help, pity or praise; just leave me alone and let me get on with my life.
    We are the thin blue line
    between you
    and all the money in the world.

    And no you can't have any.

  2. #2
    conalabu is offline Grasshopper
    Verified LEO
    Join Date
    05-16-06
    Location
    NC
    Posts
    3,406
    Rep Power
    4019284
    Love that first poem, Sarge. Thanks. I use a paraphrase of that alot. Not mine to wonder why, just mine to do or die. Fits our lives alot.
    And Shepards we shall be,
    for thee, My Lord, for thee,
    Power hath descended forth from Thy hand,
    That our feet may swiftly carry out Thy Command.
    So we shall flow a river forth to Thee
    And teeming with souls will it ever be.
    In Nomine Patris, Et Filli, Et Spiritus Sancti.

  3. #3
    mavriktu's Avatar
    mavriktu is offline Patrol Sgt.
    Verified LEO
    Join Date
    05-21-06
    Location
    Louisiana
    Posts
    2,847
    Rep Power
    5559846
    Rudyard Kipling AND Lord Tennyson all at once.You know it dont get much better than that I have loved the Charge of the Light Brigade since high school ,and as stated above have used paraphrases of several lines hundreds of times...

  4. #4
    Trojan 42's Avatar
    Trojan 42 is offline Retired Ninja
    Verified LEO
    Join Date
    05-18-06
    Location
    Twixt the Moor and the Sea, England
    Posts
    3,003
    Rep Power
    4327280
    Rudyard has some great poems about soldiering. Look for a book called Barrack Room Ballads Especially one called 'Tommy' . Gunga Dins pretty good too.
    To be born an Englishman, is to be a winner in the Lottery of Life.



    I've Talked the Talk and I've Walked the Walk, now I Sit the Sit!

    It's not until you look at an Ant through a magnifying glass on a sunny day, that you realise just how often they burst into flames for no reason!

  5. #5
    Trojan 42's Avatar
    Trojan 42 is offline Retired Ninja
    Verified LEO
    Join Date
    05-18-06
    Location
    Twixt the Moor and the Sea, England
    Posts
    3,003
    Rep Power
    4327280
    Rudyard Kipling


    Tommy
    I went into a public-'ouse to get a pint o'beer,
    The publican 'e up an' sez, "We serve no red-coats here."
    The girls be'ind the bar they laughed an' giggled fit to die,
    I outs into the street again an' to myself sez I:

    O it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, go away";
    But it's ``Thank you, Mister Atkins,'' when the band begins to play,
    The band begins to play, my boys, the band begins to play,
    O it's ``Thank you, Mr. Atkins,'' when the band begins to play.

    I went into a theatre as sober as could be,
    They gave a drunk civilian room, but 'adn't none for me;
    They sent me to the gallery or round the music-'alls,
    But when it comes to fightin', Lord! they'll shove me in the stalls!

    For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, wait outside";
    But it's "Special train for Atkins" when the trooper's on the tide,
    The troopship's on the tide, my boys, the troopship's on the tide,
    O it's "Special train for Atkins" when the trooper's on the tide.

    Yes, makin' mock o' uniforms that guard you while you sleep
    Is cheaper than them uniforms, an' they're starvation cheap;
    An' hustlin' drunken soldiers when they're goin' large a bit
    Is five times better business than paradin' in full kit.

    Then it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy how's yer soul?"
    But it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll,
    The drums begin to roll, my boys, the drums begin to roll,
    O it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll.

    We aren't no thin red 'eroes, nor we aren't no blackguards too,
    But single men in barricks, most remarkable like you;
    An' if sometimes our conduck isn't all your fancy paints:
    Why, single men in barricks don't grow into plaster saints;

    While it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, fall be'ind,"
    But it's "Please to walk in front, sir," when there's trouble in the wind,
    There's trouble in the wind, my boys, there's trouble in the wind,
    O it's "Please to walk in front, sir," when there's trouble in the wind.

    You talk o' better food for us, an' schools, an' fires an' all:
    We'll wait for extry rations if you treat us rational.
    Don't mess about the cook-room slops, but prove it to our face
    The Widow's Uniform is not the soldier-man's disgrace.

    For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Chuck him out, the brute!"
    But it's "Saviour of 'is country," when the guns begin to shoot;
    An' it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' anything you please;
    But Tommy ain't a bloomin' fool - you bet that Tommy sees!
    To be born an Englishman, is to be a winner in the Lottery of Life.



    I've Talked the Talk and I've Walked the Walk, now I Sit the Sit!

    It's not until you look at an Ant through a magnifying glass on a sunny day, that you realise just how often they burst into flames for no reason!

  6. #6
    Trojan 42's Avatar
    Trojan 42 is offline Retired Ninja
    Verified LEO
    Join Date
    05-18-06
    Location
    Twixt the Moor and the Sea, England
    Posts
    3,003
    Rep Power
    4327280
    --------------------------------------------------------------------------------

    Gunga Din



    --------------------------------------------------------------------------------




    You may talk o' gin and beer
    When you're quartered safe out 'ere,
    An' you're sent to penny-fights an' Aldershot it;
    But when it comes to slaughter
    You will do your work on water,
    An' you'll lick the bloomin' boots of 'im that's got it.
    Now in Injia's sunny clime,
    Where I used to spend my time
    A-servin' of 'Er Majesty the Queen,
    Of all them blackfaced crew
    The finest man I knew
    Was our regimental bhisti, Gunga Din.
    He was "Din! Din! Din!
    "You limpin' lump o' brick-dust, Gunga Din!
    "Hi! Slippy hitherao!
    "Water, get it! Panee lao
    "You squidgy-nosed old idol, Gunga Din."
    The uniform 'e wore
    Was nothin' much before,
    An' rather less than 'arf o' that be'ind,
    For a piece o' twisty rag
    An' a goatskin water-bag
    Was all the field-equipment 'e could find.
    When the sweatin' troop-train lay
    In a sidin' through the day,
    Where the 'eat would make your bloomin' eyebrows crawl,
    We shouted " Harry By!"
    Till our throats were bricky-dry,
    Then we wopped 'im 'cause 'e couldn't serve us all.
    It was "Din! Din! Din!
    "You 'eathen, where the mischief 'ave you been?
    "You put some juldee in it
    "Or I'll marrow you this minute
    "If you don't fill up my helmet, Gunga Din!"

    'E would dot an' carry one
    Till the longest day was done;
    An' 'e didn't seem to know the use o' fear.
    If we charged or broke or cut,
    You could bet your bloomin' nut,
    'E'd be waitin' fifty paces right flank rear.
    With 'is mussick' on 'is back,
    'E would skip with our attack,
    An' watch us till the bugles made "Retire,"
    An' for all 'is dirty 'ide
    'E was white, clear white, inside
    When 'e went to tend the wounded under fire!
    It was "Din! Din! Din!"
    With the bullets kickin' dust-spots on the green
    When the cartridges ran out,
    You could hear the front-ranks shout,
    "Hi! ammunition-mules an' Gunga Din!"

    I sha'n't forgit the night
    When I dropped be'ind the fight
    With a bullet where my belt-plate should 'a' been.
    I was chokin' mad with thirst,
    An' the man that spied me first
    Was our good old grinnin', gruntin' Gunga Din.
    'E lifted up my 'ead,
    An' he plugged me where I bled, An' 'e guv me 'arf-a-pint o' water green.
    It was crawlin' and it stunk,
    But of all the drinks I've drunk,
    I'm gratefullest to one from Gunga Din.
    It was "Din! Din! Din!
    "'Ere's a beggar with a bullet through 'is spleen"
    "'E's chawin' up the ground,
    "An' 'e's kickin' all around:
    "For Gawd's sake git the water, Gunga Din!

    'E carried me away
    To where a dooli lay,
    An' a bullet come an' drilled the beggar clean.
    'E put me safe inside,
    An' just before 'e died,
    "I 'ope you liked your drink" sez Gunga Din.
    So I'll meet 'im later on
    At the place where 'e is gone
    Where it's always double drill and no canteen.
    'E'll be squattin' on the coals
    Givin' drink to poor damned souls,
    An' I'll get a swig in hell from Gunga Din!
    Yes, Din! Din! Din!
    You Lazarushian-leather Gunga Din!
    Though I've belted you and flayed you,
    By the livin' Gawd that made you,
    You're a better man than I am, Gunga Din!



    Note on vernacular expressions
    bhisti - water-carrier
    hitherao - come here
    panee lao - bring water
    Harry By - O Brother
    juldee - quickly
    marrow - hit
    To be born an Englishman, is to be a winner in the Lottery of Life.



    I've Talked the Talk and I've Walked the Walk, now I Sit the Sit!

    It's not until you look at an Ant through a magnifying glass on a sunny day, that you realise just how often they burst into flames for no reason!

  7. #7
    Piggybank Cop's Avatar
    Piggybank Cop is offline Nobody important.
    Join Date
    05-17-06
    Location
    Richmond VA
    Posts
    2,207
    Rep Power
    645057
    Departmental Ditties and Other Verses

    The Betrothed

    “You must choose between me and your cigar.”
    — Breach of Promise Case, circa 1885.

    Rudyard Kipling


    --------------------------------------------------------------------------

    Open the old cigar-box, get me a Cuba stout,
    For things are running crossways, and Maggie and I are out.
    We quarrelled about Havanas—we fought o’er a good cheroot,
    And I knew she is exacting, and she says I am a brute.

    Open the old cigar-box—let me consider a space;
    In the soft blue veil of the vapour musing on Maggie’s face.

    Maggie is pretty to look at—Maggie’s a loving lass,
    But the prettiest cheeks must wrinkle, the truest of loves must pass.

    There’s peace in a Larranaga, there’s calm in a Henry Clay;
    But the best cigar in an hour is finished and thrown away—

    Thrown away for another as perfect and ripe and brown—
    But I could not throw away Maggie for fear o’ the talk o’ the town!

    Maggie, my wife at fifty—grey and dour and old—
    With never another Maggie to purchase for love or gold!

    And the light of Days that have Been the dark of the Days that Are,
    And Love’s torch stinking and stale, like the butt of a dead cigar—

    The butt of a dead cigar you are bound to keep in your pocket—
    With never a new one to light tho’ it’s charred and black to the socket!

    Open the old cigar-box—let me consider a while.
    Here is a mild Manila—there is a wifely smile.

    Which is the better portion—bondage bought with a ring,
    Or a harem of dusky beauties, fifty tied in a string?

    Counsellors cunning and silent—comforters true and tried,
    And never a one of the fifty to sneer at a rival bride?

    Thought in the early morning, solace in time of woes,
    Peace in the hush of the twilight, balm ere my eyelids close,

    This will the fifty give me, asking nought in return,
    With only a Suttee’s passion—to do their duty and burn.

    This will the fifty give me. When they are spent and dead,
    Five times other fifties shall be my servants instead.

    The furrows of far-off Java, the isles of the Spanish Main,
    When they hear my harem is empty will send me my brides again.

    I will take no heed to their raiment, nor food for their mouths withal,
    So long as the gulls are nesting, so long as the showers fall.

    I will scent ’em with best vanilla, with tea will I temper their hides,
    And the Moor and the Mormon shall envy who read of the tale of my brides.

    For Maggie has written a letter to give me my choice between
    The wee little whimpering Love and the great god Nick o’ Teen.

    And I have been servant of Love for barely a twelvemonth clear,
    But I have been Priest of Cabanas a matter of seven year;

    And the gloom of my bachelor days is flecked with the cheery light
    Of stumps that I burned to Friendship and Pleasure and Work and Fight.

    And I turn my eyes to the future that Maggie and I must prove,
    But the only light on the marshes is the Will-o’-the-Wisp of Love.

    Will it see me safe through my journey or leave me bogged in the mire?
    Since a puff of tobacco can cloud it, shall I follow the fitful fire?

    Open the old cigar-box—let me consider anew—
    Old friends, and who is Maggie that I should abandon you?

    A million surplus Maggies are willing to bear the yoke;
    And a woman is only a woman, but a good Cigar is a Smoke.

    Light me another Cuba—I hold to my first-sworn vows.
    If Maggie will have no rival, I’ll have no Maggie for Spouse!





    --------------------------------------------------------------------------
    We are the thin blue line
    between you
    and all the money in the world.

    And no you can't have any.

 

 

Thread Information

Users Browsing this Thread

There are currently 1 users browsing this thread. (0 members and 1 guests)

Similar Threads

  1. Please help our soldiers
    By Growler in forum In the News
    Replies: 0
    Last Post: 07-14-07, 08:25 PM
  2. Wiccan symbol OK for soldiers' graves
    By Buttercup in forum In the News
    Replies: 10
    Last Post: 04-26-07, 04:47 AM
  3. Worker bought talking trees, charges say
    By Roses in forum In the News
    Replies: 5
    Last Post: 01-24-07, 11:32 PM

Tags for this Thread

Bookmarks

Posting Permissions

  • You may not post new threads
  • You may not post replies
  • You may not post attachments
  • You may not edit your posts
  •