With apologies to Alfred, Lord Tennyson*
Half a set, half a set
Half a set onward,
Always into the Valley of Coughs
Whenever he solo'd
"Start the next number!
Play for the crowd," he said.
Into the Valley of Coughs
Whenever he solo'd
"Start the next number!"
Was there any afraid?
Not tho' everyone heard
How the music was sunder'd.
Theirs not to make reply
Theirs not to reason why
Theirs but to play and die
Into the Valley of Coughs
Whenever he solo'd.
Hacking to the right of him
Harumphing to the left of him
Thoat clearing in front of him
volley'd and thundered
Storm'd at with shot and shell--
Surely no one's well!
But one was left to tell
Came thro' the Jaws of Death
Back from the Mouth of Hell
The last time he solo'd
When can their coughing fade?
O the wild sounds they made!
All the world wonders
Wince at the noise they made!
Give them the lowest grade
IFrom the last time he solo'd