&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!