Thomas Hardy — 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!