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                         I
“Charge!” they said and charge they led
      from out of a dry desert wadi.
 Every man of the Light Horse Brigade
   across the desert thundered -
 their pulsing veins, their loosened reins,
   toward the wells of Beersheba
   rode the brave eight hundred!
                         II
 In gallop stride they fought and died
      on mighty Walers champing.
 Every man in the Light Horse Regiment
   faced a foe greater numbered -
 with rifles cocked, their bayonets locked,
   onward the wells of Beersheba
   rode the brave eight hundred!
                         III
 Again and again the Lighthorsemen
      the Turkish lines outflanked.
 Every man of the Expeditionary Force
   of horse and rider wondered -
 their squadron raid, in great crusade,
   forward the wells of Beersheba
   rode the brave eight hundred!
                         IV
 And across the sands into their hands
      the Ottoman guns fell silent.
 Every man in the Desert Mounted Corps
   the battle trenches plundered -
 with martial force, on valiant horse,
   further the wells of Beersheba
   rode the brave eight hundred!
                         V
 With God they rode and victory owed
      with emu plumes in their hats.
 Every man of the Light Mounted Infantry
   sat his saddle or lay sundered -
 like Gideon of old, their trusty fold,
   beyond the wells of Beersheba
   rode the brave eight hundred!
                         VI
 On horizon’s red light an heroic sight
      in clouds of smoke and dust.
“Charge!” they said and charge they led
   when enemy lines blundered.
 The legend tells of Beersheba’s wells,
   how the march on Jerusalem 
   to glory led all eight hundred!


      Written: November 2010

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