Battle of Alma

On September last the eighteenth day,
We landed safe at big Cri-mea,
In spite of all the splashing spray,
To cheer our hearts for Alma.

Then Britain’s sons may long remember,
The glorious twentieth of September,
We caused the Russians to surrender,
Upon the heights of Alma.

That night we lay on the cold ground.
No tent nor shelter to be found;
And with the rain was almost drowned
Upon the heights of Alma.

Chorus

Next morning a scorching sun did rise,
Beneath the eastern cloudy skies;
Our noble chief, Lord Raglan, cries,
"Prepare to march for Alma".

Chorus

Oh, when the heights we hove in view,
The stoutest heart it could subdue,
To see the Russian warlike crew,
Upon the heights of Alma.

Chorus

They were so strongly fortified,
With batteries on every side.
Our noble chief, Lord Raglan, cried,
"We’ll get hot work at Alma".

Their shot it flew like winter rain,
When their batteries strove to gain,
And many a hero there was slain
Upon the heights of Alma.

Chorus

Our Scottish lads in kilt and hose,
Were not the last you may suppose,
So daring faced their daring foes,
And gained the heights of Alma.

Chorus

To Sevastapol the Russians fled,
They left their wounded and their dead,
And the rivers there that they run red,
From the blood was spilled at Alma.

Chorus

There was fifteen hundred Frenchmen I heard say,
Had fell upon that fateful day,
And eighteen hundred Russians lay,
In the bloody gore at Alma.

Chorus

From orphans' eyes the tears do roll,
And none the widows can console;
While parents mourn beyond control
For the sons they lost at Alma.

Chorus

And many a pretty maid does mourn
Her lover who will ne'er return;
By cruel wars he's from her torn,
His body lies at Alma.

Chorus

Now France and England hand in hand,
What foe on earth could them withstand?
So let it run throughout the land,
The victory won at Alma.

Chorus

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