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| Albuera - 16 May 1811 - painting by Duane R Hurst |
The Field of Albuera
It was the fifteenth day of May
We marched through the mud and the weather;
The drums and the colours they led us away
To the field of Albuera.
Sir William he brought up his army that day,
To vanquish an unbeaten foe;
The Duke of Dalmatia was come to dispatch us
To the Prince of Damnation below.
The morning was clear when came the advance,
We held off the French with a will.
The muskets and cannon they roared back and forth,
And the thunder replied from the hills.
Now we were the Dorsets, the 39th Foot,
Fine fellows, and brave was our fame,
But courage alone will not keep you alive
When your musket is fouled with the rain.
How handsome the horsemen who cut us all down,
How noble the plumage and lace,
And we were all muddied, all bleeding and dying,
With the wind and the steel in our face.
They tell me we won, though I know naught of that -
Forgive me that I do not cheer, sir;
My comrades are slain, and my brother lies buried
At the field of Albuera.
Traditional song (poss. attributed to James Aughton Bryde - d 1852)
Wargame next Saturday, here at Chateau Foy - we'll be staging a refight of the Battle of Albuera, which was fought here in November. It should be an interesting game, for a number of reasons, and a few wrinkles in the rules should be smoothed out this time!
We marched through the mud and the weather;
The drums and the colours they led us away
To the field of Albuera.
Sir William he brought up his army that day,
To vanquish an unbeaten foe;
The Duke of Dalmatia was come to dispatch us
To the Prince of Damnation below.
The morning was clear when came the advance,
We held off the French with a will.
The muskets and cannon they roared back and forth,
And the thunder replied from the hills.
Now we were the Dorsets, the 39th Foot,
Fine fellows, and brave was our fame,
But courage alone will not keep you alive
When your musket is fouled with the rain.
How handsome the horsemen who cut us all down,
How noble the plumage and lace,
And we were all muddied, all bleeding and dying,
With the wind and the steel in our face.
They tell me we won, though I know naught of that -
Forgive me that I do not cheer, sir;
My comrades are slain, and my brother lies buried
At the field of Albuera.
Traditional song (poss. attributed to James Aughton Bryde - d 1852)
Wargame next Saturday, here at Chateau Foy - we'll be staging a refight of the Battle of Albuera, which was fought here in November. It should be an interesting game, for a number of reasons, and a few wrinkles in the rules should be smoothed out this time!
More to follow.
Albuera. One of my favorites. I look forward to your battle exploits.
ReplyDeleteLooking forward to seeing the report Sir!
ReplyDeleteI too look forward to reports of the action to come!
ReplyDelete