They galloped down hell for leather,
To them it probably did not matter,
As they stood on the hills border,
They could only laugh at such an ORDER.

And so as the fetlocks rose high,
They charged knowing they were about to die,
And with each amazing stride,
Four Regiments side by side.

The order given was to attack,
Don’t worry Light the Heavy’s at the back,
The Light did attack, was blown to hell and driven back,
The Heavy was shocked and didn’t know how to react.

Those fetlocks that once shined in the sun,
Driven back by the Russian gun,
They came back through the blood and gore,
God that’s enough we don’t want no more.

Questions were asked again and again,
Who is this Lord Cardigan?
Lucan, Cardigan, Lancer on the border,
Who messed up and gave that order?

They can’t ask the question why,
Why they charged, certain to die,
They probably thought they had a chance,
Our nearest and dearest lives to enhance.

I see the CHARGE day by day,
As each one of us passes away,
And as we charge through life’s valley of fun.
At least be thankful of no RUSSIAN GUN