Tu n’es pas mort, coquin?

See Sir Frederick Ponsonby, commander of the 12th Light Dragoons

And General Jacquinot reacts, the French can see we’ll hold our own with smiles

Enter the fearsome lancers


Savage and terrifying, they pierce my flesh

Wounded in both my arms and

Out of control I plunge into the fray

Explore the limits of yourself

And ask yourself just how much can you take


When one can take abuse with smiles


Then he in turn may lead his men as sons



When I open up my eyes and try to lift myself out of the mud

Hear, “Tu n’es pas mort, coquin?” and quickly followed by another blow



I feel the steel inside me

The pain is overwhelming and blinding

I taste the blood arising


My lung is pierced and soon I slip away

I once again awaken

So paralyzed, forsaken and alone

I’m robbed in empty pockets


A tirailleur will use me as a shield



Explore the limits of yourself

And ask yourself just how much can you take


When one can take abuse with smiles

Then he in turn may lead his men as sons