They clung to the height as it it was really theirs.
As the mortars went on with their spray...
But again and again we swarmed these deadly stairs
Like the crowd at the station buffet.

 
 
 
 

And the shouts of "hoorah" - they froze on our lips
As we dined on fatal bullets!
Seven times, we stormed the height to the tip
Seven times, we were forced to leave it.

Of course, no-one’s that keen to lunge up this steep;
The ground is like blackened porridge.
But the eighth time we take it, we take it to keep -
We’ve bought it with our courage!

But why on earth can’t we simply walk round?
Why do we cling 0n so tight?
It surely must be that here on this ground
The paths of fate meet and give fight.

They clung to the height as if it was really theirs.
The mortars went on with their spray...
But again and again we swarmed these deadly stairs
Like the crowd at a station buffet.