by David G Dickenson
ZULU
MANY THE WELSH HAD FOUGHT AND DIED
AT ISANDLWANA BEFORE THE TIDE
HAD SWEPT ACROSS THE LAND SO BRAVE
AND LEFT A THOUSAND FOR THE GRAVE.
KILLING ALL WHO DARED TO STAND
THE FIERCESOME MASS OF BLACK ARM BAND
ONWARD! ONWARD! ON TO KILL
ALL WHO STOOD WHO HAD THE WILL.
THOUSANDS CAME TO SLAUGHTER THE REDS
LIKE A TRAIN, PLAYED WITH THEIR HEADS
CLASHING SPEAR AGAINST THE SHIELD
LIKE SOLDIER ANTS UPON THE FIELD.
THE GUARDS MADE FAST THEIR WEAK OUTPOST
WATCHING, WAITING THEIR MIGHT OUTGROSSED
THEN THE DARK MARAUDER SPREAD
WITH HIS HUGE BLACK ARMOURED HEAD
SHOT BY SHOT THEIR TARGETS FOUND
ZULU'S FELL, MASSED ON THE GROUND
CHARGING FORWARD TO CAUSE A RIFT
TO BREAK THE HEART OF OLD RORK'S DRIFT
TWO DAY'S PASSED THIS FIGHT SUSTAINED
TILL, REPULSED THE ZULU'S WANED
BROMHEAD, CHARD AND WELSHMEN FEW
STOOD VICTORIOUS ,PROUD AND TRUE
SO,THIS GREAT TALE TO ANNULS REST
OF HISTORY'S ONCE PROUD HEROES BLESSED
THOSE MEDALS HUNG ON EMPTY WALLS
OF SACRIFICE WHEN DUTY CALLS.