Valenciennes

Thomas Hardy

               By Corporal Tullidge. See "The Trumpet-Major"
                 In Memory of S. C. (Pensioner). Died 184-

       WE trenched, we trumpeted and drummed,
     And from our mortars tons of iron hummed
       Ath'art the ditch, the month we bombed
        The Town o' Valencien.

       'Twas in the June o' Ninety-dree
     (The Duke o' Yark our then Commander ben)
       The German Legion, Guards, and we
        Laid siege to Valencien.

       This was the first time in the war
     That French and English spilled each other's gore;
       --God knows what year will end the roar
        Begun at Valencien!

       'Twas said that we'd no business there
     A-toppern the French for disagren;
       However, that's not my affair--
        We were at Valencien.

       Such snocks and slats, since war began
     Never knew raw recruit or vetern:
       Stone-deaf therence went many a man
        Who served at Valencien.

       Into the streets, ath'art the sky,
     A hundred thousand balls and bombs were flen;
       And harmless townsfolk fell to die
        Each hour at Valencien!

       And, sweatn wi' the bombardiers,
     A shell was slent to shards anighst my ears:
       --'Twas night the end of hopes and fears
        For me at Valencien!

       They bore my wownded frame to camp,
     And shut my gapn skull, and washed en clen,
       And jined en wi' a zilver clamp
        Thik night at Valencien.

       "We've fetched en back to quick from dead;
     But never more on earth while rose is red
       Will drum rouse Corpel!" Doctor said
        O' me at Valencien.

       'Twer true. No voice o' friend or foe
     Can reach me now, or any liven ben;
       And little have I power to know
        Since then at Valencien!

       I never hear the zummer hums
     O' bees; and don't know when the cuckoo comes;
       But night and day I hear the bombs
        We threw at Valencien....

       As for the Duke o' Yark in war,
     There be some volk whose judgment o' en is men;
       But this I say--'a was not far
        From great at Valencien.

       O' wild wet nights, when all seems sad,
     My wownds come back, as though new wownds I'd had;
       But yet--at times I'm sort o' glad
        I fout at Valencien.

       Well: Heaven wi' its jasper halls
     Is now the on'y Town I care to be in....
       Good Lord, if Nick should bomb the walls
        As we did Valencien!

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