Valenciennes

&nbsp We trenched, we trumpeted and drummed,
And from our mortars tons of iron hummed
&nbsp Ath'art the ditch, the month we bombed
&nbsp       &nbsp The Town o' Valencieen.

&nbsp 'Twas in the June o' Ninety-dree
(The Duke o' Yark our then Commander been)
&nbsp The German Legion, Guards, and we
&nbsp       &nbsp Laid siege to Valencieen.

&nbsp This was the first time in the war
That French and English spilled each other's gore;
&nbsp —Few dreamt how far would roll the roar
&nbsp       &nbsp Begun at Valencieen!

&nbsp 'Twas said that we'd no business there
A-topperen the French for disagreen;
&nbsp However, that's not my affair -
&nbsp       &nbsp We were at Valencieen.

&nbsp Such snocks and slats, since war began
Never knew raw recruit or veteran:
&nbsp Stone-deaf therence went many a man
&nbsp       &nbsp Who served at Valencieen.

&nbsp Into the streets, ath'art the sky,
A hundred thousand balls and bombs were fleen;
&nbsp And harmless townsfolk fell to die
&nbsp       &nbsp Each hour at Valencieen!

&nbsp And, sweaten wi' the bombardiers,
A shell was slent to shards anighst my ears:
&nbsp —'Twas nigh the end of hopes and fears
&nbsp       &nbsp For me at Valencieen!

&nbsp They bore my wownded frame to camp,
And shut my gapen skull, and washed en clean,
&nbsp And jined en wi' a zilver clamp
&nbsp       &nbsp Thik night at Valencieen.

&nbsp "We've fetched en back to quick from dead;
But never more on earth while rose is red
&nbsp Will drum rouse Corpel!" Doctor said
&nbsp       &nbsp O' me at Valencieen.

&nbsp 'Twer true. No voice o' friend or foe
Can reach me now, or any liven been;
&nbsp And little have I power to know
&nbsp       &nbsp Since then at Valencieen!

&nbsp I never hear the zummer hums
O' bees; and don' know when the cuckoo comes;
&nbsp But night and day I hear the bombs
&nbsp       &nbsp We threw at Valencieen . . .

&nbsp As for the Duke o' Yark in war,
There be some volk whose judgment o' en is mean;
&nbsp But this I say—a was not far
&nbsp       &nbsp From great at Valencieen.

&nbsp O' wild wet nights, when all seems sad,
My wownds come back, as though new wownds I'd had;
&nbsp But yet—at times I'm sort o' glad
&nbsp       &nbsp I fout at Valencieen.

&nbsp Well: Heaven wi' its jasper halls
Is now the on'y Town I care to be in . . .
&nbsp Good Lord, if Nick should bomb the walls
&nbsp       &nbsp As we did Valencieen!