Eighteen hundred and fifty-four.

We scrambled through the clustering vines,
Then came the battle's brunt;
Our officers, they cheered us on,
Our colours waved in front;
And fighting well full many fell,
Alas! to rise no more,
On the twentieth of September,
Eighteen hundred and fifty-four.

The French were on the right that day,
And flanked the Russian line,
While full upon their left they saw
The British bayonets shine.
With hearty cheers we stunned their ears,
Amidst the cannon's roar,
On the twentieth of September,
Eighteen hundred and fifty-four.

A picnic party Menschikoff
Had asked to see the fun;
The ladies came at twelve o'clock
To see the battle won.
They found the day too hot to stay,
The Prince felt rather sore,
On the twentieth of September,
Eighteen hundred and fifty-four.

For when he called his carriage up,
The French came up likewise;
And so he took French leave at once
And left to them the prize.
The Chasseurs took his pocket-book,
They even sacked his store,
On the twentieth of September,
Eighteen hundred and fifty-four.

A letter to Old Nick they found,
And this was what it said:
"To meet their bravest men, my liege,
Your soldiers do not dread;
But devils they, not mortal men,"
The Russian General swore,
"That drove us off the Alma's heights
In September, fifty-four."

Long life to Royal Cambridge,
To Peel and Camperdown,
And all the gallant British Tars
Who shared the great renown,
Who stunned Russian ears with British cheers,
Amidst the cannon's roar,
On the twentieth of September,
Eighteen hundred and fifty-four.

Here's a health to noble Raglan,
To Campbell and to Brown,
And all the gallant Frenchmen
Who shared that day's renown.
Whilst we displayed the black cockade,
They the tricolour bore;
The Russian crew wore gray and blue
In September, fifty-four.

Come, let us drink a toast to-night,
Our glasses take in hand,
And all around this festive board
In solemn silence stand.
Before we part let each true heart
Drink once to those no more,
Who fought their last fight on Alma's height
In September, fifty-four!

Around our bivouac fires that night as _