With appreciation to Alfred Lord Tennyson
--
Half a week, half a month,
Half a year longer
All in the valley of Death
Sat many hundred.
"Hold, Iraq Brigade!
"Stay the course!" he said:
Throughout the valley of Death
Sat many hundred.
"Disband the Baathists, aide!"
Was there a man dismay'd?
Not tho' the soldier knew
Rumsfeld had blunder'd:
Their's not to make reply,
Their's not to reason why,
Their's but to do and die:
Throughout the valley of Death
Sat many hundred.
Car bombs to right of them,
Car bombs to left of them,
Car bombs in front of them
Blast'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
Some were doomed to say farewell,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of Hell
Went many hundred.
Guarding spots like sitting ducks,
Escorting Halliburton's trucks,
And Perle sits and counts his bucks,
Begetting more rebels, while
All the world wonder'd:
Burning in the desert air
Experts right and left despair;
Zinni and Hoar
Livid at the lack of care
Rumsfeld had muster'd.
The forces stand still, but not
Not eleven hundred.
Zarqawi to right of them,
Muqtada to left of them,
Bin Laden behind them
Gone and forgotten;
He just attracts, we just repel
While our best men and women fell,
They that had fought so well
Still in the jaws of Death
Still in the mouth of Hell,
All that was left of them,
Without eleven hundred.
When can their glory fade?
O the feindish lie that slayed!
All the world wondered.
Honor the try they made,
Honor the Iraq Brigade,
Noble eleven hundred.