It was on the heights of Alma, The Russians were laying entrench’d Lord Raglan and Marshal St. Arnaud, Commanding the English and French; In front of the fortified walls, The allies marched into the fight, Fifty-eight thousand men in bright armour, Put all the wild Russians to flight, Then here’s, &c. On the twentieth of September, The desperate battle was fought, The Russians will ever remember, Tho’ dearly my boys it was bought With the blood of our courageous allies, Who fell on the fortified plain, They brought the flag of old England, Without either blemish or stain. Then here’s, &c. The Russians held up their position, And fought for the space of three hours, Secluded behind their entrenchments, The balls flew around us in showers; At last at the point of the bayonet, The Russians were forced to retreat, And run in the greatest disorder, Compell’d by a total defeat. Then here’s &c. The number that lay dead and wounded, Is awful my friends to recite, Let’s mourn the loss of our allies, Who fell in the desperate fight; They fought them with great desperation, And forced the wild Russians to yield, While cannons did rattle in battle, They conquered and died on the field, Then here’s, &c. [Illustration] THE NIGHTINGALE IN THE EAST. On a dark lonely night, on the Crimea’s dread shore-- There had been bloodshed and strife on the morning before-- The dead and the dying lay bleeding around, Some crying for help--there was none to be found. Now God in his mercy He pity’d their cries, And the soldier so cheerfully in the morning doth rise, So forward my lads, may your hearts never fail, You are cheered by the presence of a sweet Nightingale. Now God sent this angel to succour the brave, Some thousands she’s saved from an untimely grave; Her eyes beam with pleasure, she’s bounteous and good, The wants of the wounded are by her understood. With fever some brought in, with life almost gone, Some with dismantled limbs, some to fragments are torn, But they keep up their spirits, their hearts never fail, Now they’re cheered by the presence of a sweet Nightingale. Her heart it means good--for no bounty she’ll take, She’d lay down her life for the poor soldier’s sake, She prays for the dying, she gives peace to the brave, She feels that a soldier has a soul she may save. The wounded they love her, as it has been seen; She’s the soldier’s preserver, they call her their queen! May God give her strength, and her heart never fail, One of heaven’s best gifts is Miss Nightingale.