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Thursday, 3 April 2008

image for British Occupiers in Basra Memorialized in "The Retreat of The Light Brigade" The Banner of the Light in the Loafers Brigade

British literary critics are celebrating the mysterious aoppearance of a new poem about the UK's Bush-Blair Blunder in Iraq.

An obvious parody of Tennyson's honorific to the slaughter of an English Brigade in the Crimean War, another of those economically motivated disasters where common folk are sent to die for the Lords and ladies of Industry who stay home with their children safe and sound.

The Literary Supplement of the New English Doggerel has been the first to publish the internet phenomenon by an anonymous poet calling himself, Alfred, Lord Pointytennishoes:

The Retreat Of The Light in the Loafers Brigade
By General Fred Wit-Drawl
Memorializing Events in the non-battle for Southern Shiite, Iraq

Half a league half a league,
Half a league backward,
All in the valley of Death
Rode out the six hundred:
'Backward, the Light in the loafers Brigade!
Run from the guns' he said:
Out of the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.

'Run Away!, the Light Brigade!'
Was there a man dismay'd ?
Not tho' the soldier knew
Some one had blunder'd:
Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to do & drive,
Out of the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.

Cannon used to be to right of them,
Cannon at one time to left of them,
Cannon formally in front of them
Volley'd & thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
Boldly they rode and well,
Far from the jaws of Death,
Away from the mouth of Hell
Ran away the six hundred.

Scabred all their sabres once bare,
Flash'd as they turn'd to retreat
Escaping the gunners there,
Charging an airport while
All the world wonder'd:
Plunged in the get away plane's smoke
Right thro' the line they broke;
Shiite and Shiite
Reel'd from the sudden escape,
Shatter'd & sunder'd.
Then they rode back, but not
Not the six hundred.

Plane wing to right of them,
Plane wing to left of them,
Plane Tail behind them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
While horse & hero fell,
asleep on the flight
They that had fought so well
Came thro' the jaws of Death,
Back from the mouth of Hell,
All that was left of them,
Left of six hundred.

When can the gore they saw fade?
O the wild charge for the airport they made!
All the world wonder'd.
Honour the retreat they made!
Honour the Light in the loafers Brigade,
Noble six hundred!
So much smarter than the four thousand Americans!

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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