'We rode forward despite our fears,
The wind gushing through our hairs,
The sky above all grim and dark,
while we brushed against the trees of bark.
Faster we rode and closer we got,
Who knew it was the time to rot,
But 600 of us rode on and on,
And into our death we rode on and on.
Cannons were shooting from every side,
And one by one we fell of and died,
The Russians shot and did they shoot well,
Indeed they did throught the fire of hell.
The swords we used were lying around,
Yes around our bodies they lay all around,
The Russians rode away not a single look back,
They galloped away quickly on their own track.
We lay there in the burning fire,
The hot and killing,burning fire,
Some of us wounded and some of us dead,
Smeared in blood that is of bright red.'