I've seen Arabs, Frenchmen, and Bashi-Bazouks, Russians made prisoners, and sad were their looks; Their pitiful tales I've heard them unfold Of the hardships they suffered from hunger and cold. I've seen General Codrington on his charger so grey, Riding out on the bills at the dawning of day, With an eye like an eagle and a heart like a lion, Inspecting the trenches where soldiers were dying. On June the 7th I saw the Allies in action, Their heroic deeds were the source of attraction; They fought and fought bravely, their cause to maintain, They took the great Mamelon, but thousands were slain. On that 7th day of June I saw the English too. Not far from their Allies, combat with the foe; Their deeds were praiseworthy, they never did flinch, They took the great Quarries and the Circular Trench. On the 18th of June I saw that disastrous fight, Led on by young Waller, Fitzclarence, and Wright; When our Colonel got shot, the brave daring Yea, And many were the victims of that bloody affray. I've seen Kazatch Bay and the great combined fleet, Where the French and the English each other did greet; They mixed and they mingled, the ships and ship's crew, The Blue, White, and Red, and the Red, White, and Blue. I've seen those interesting and gay Vivandiers March with their soldiers with smiles and with cheers; I've seen them on horseback astride like a man, To describe their attractions is more than I can. I've seen the explosion of a French magazine, With great loss to the Emperor and our lady the Queen; It knocked down our huts and our tents it turned o'er, And numbers of men were never seen more. Our troops were alarmed as the explosion it spread, And for self-preservation from the camp they fled; But Young Hope was active, and his part he played well, As the missiles were flying, the round shot and shell. Near the scene of excitement, on the top of the hill, Stood the great magazine which they call the Windmill; Had it once taken fire our loss had been great, And Britain would have mourned her army's sad fate. I've seen the brave Turner and his friend Major Peck, Who sailed from old England to make an attack; Though Boreas did buffet our weather-beaten screw, She skipped o'er the billows with her Crimean-bound crew. I've seen Monsieur Français, his eyes beaming with pride, Take our young lads on the spree to drink his cognac; I've seen the triangles to which men were fast tied. While the drummers served fifty upon their bare back. I've seen Balaclava, a magnificent sight, With its cloud-covered castle high up on the right, Once embellished by art, and built on the great rock, A shelter for shipping and Nature's wild flock.