by Bernard Newman (1929) Half a yard, half a yard, half a yard onward Out of the 'Rose And Crown' all the six blundered 'Forward the Tight Brigade' 'Time please,' the barman said Would they awake the town? All the police wondered. 'Forward the Tight Brigade,' was there a man dismayed? No, though each toper knew his footsteps blundered No use to make reply to landlord’s parting cry Their’s but to walk or try, but into the gutter there All the six blundered. Lampposts to right of them, lampposts to left of them Lampposts in front of them wobbled and sundered Scared by a tramcar bell, boldly they walked till, well They met a motor-bus, then down again they fell While the bus thundered. Flashed all their arms in air, gripping the railings there While passers turned to stare, all the world wondered Who can their story tell? when they let go they fell And as for language, well, someone had blundered. Up came a foolish chap, talked of the evil tap Wicked horses, sinful nap, oh, how he blundered Wished he’d kept quiet, instead, as he got a knock on the head And wished that he were dead, shattered and sundered. Then turned the six and ran, that’s where the fun began Spirals made every man, as onward they blundered Policemen to right of them, policemen to left of them Policemen in front of them, rushed up and wondered. Took them to prison cell, they who had tried so well Picked them up as they fell, as they all blundered Next day, in Court displayed, oh, the wild charge they made 'D and D', and twenty-one days, and then they wondered.
The end