When horses thunder

Without a blunder

And sabers clash

In a swirling dash

 

When horses neigh

And riders say

“Onward brothers without delay”

 

The charge, the charge

A glorious thing

And how the minstrels used to sing

But, alas, that was before the war

 

The war, the war, that epic war

Where flesh was shattered and steel took place

Where now the animal has no face

Where mane there was, there’s now a gun

And silky hides have turned to stone

 

But alas, alas, you cannot speak

 Of home and hearts to this brutal beast

This brutal beast which has no feeling

This brutal beast which crushes all

And kills the young, the weak, the small

 

The Germans used them without restraint

The Americans would not without paint

The English used them hardly at all

The Russian used them to conquer all

The French men had but few to choose

The Polish had not any to use

 

Alas, alas, a beast it is

A tank they call it

This brutal beast

Which crushes all

And kills the weak

 

‘Tis modern now, the tank it is

Gone is the charge

Gone is the glory that was so bright

When men would come back from a fight

 

When horses thundered

Without a blunder

And sabers clashed

In a swirling dash