Half a job, half a job,
Half a job onward,
All in the valley of Death
Rode the one hundred.
`Forward, the Darwin Clade!
Sprint for the line! ' he said:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the one hundred.
`Forward, the Darwin Clade! '
Was there a man dismay'd?
Not tho' the troopers knew
Some one had blunder'd:
Their's not to make reply,
Their's not to reason why,
Their's but to do and die:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the one hundred.
Problems to the right of them,
Defects to the left of them,
Changes in front of them
Stricken and sunder'd;
Storm'd at with stymied URL,
Boldly they strove and well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of Hell
Rode the one hundred.
Stripped down all their assets bare,
Converted all their content fair
Shafting the troopers there,
Charging a fortune, while
All of the company wonder'd:
Plunged in the hazy smoke
Right thro' the line they broke;
Directors and the workers there
Reel'd from the sobering stroke
Shatter'd and sunder'd.
Then they made a comeback,
but not the one hundred
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem