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May 2020
I stand on an deserted and desolate field
Where many a man's fate was sealed;
Oh how the iron church bells pealed,
Sounding the dead of Inkerman

Long ago in foggy morning
Her Majesty’s soldiers lay a-snoring
That's when they came without warning,
Scaling the heights of Inkerman

Through the fog, cold and deep
Soldiers by hundreds quietly creep
Still maintaining surprise they keep
As they climb the hills of Inkerman

The battle starts; the cannons roar
With a fire yet unseen in war
Thousands die in the horrible chore
To take the heights of Inkerman

Many times the ridge changed sides
The wounded and dead, they drop like flies
And from the plains you heard their cries
From o’er the heights of Inkerman

Now the heights, with silent air
Carries no signs of the fighting there
But when you walk them, say a prayer
For the men who died on the slopes of Inkerman
Written by
Patrick Greenfield
206
   MS Anjaan
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