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2,30 Ballads and Songs of Michigan
2 It was on September, the eighteenth day; In spite of the salt sea's saucy spray, We landed safe on the Crimea
All on our route for Alma.
3 The eighteenth regiment, the forty-third, They clum the hills and gave three cheers When the sound of rally rang in their ears From the Irish boys at Alma.
4 The highland lads with kilts and hose Were not the last, you may suppose; With burning faces and daring pose They took the heights of Alma.
5 Back to Sevastopool the Russians fled; They left their wounded and their dead. It made the river flow with red,
The blood that was spilt at Alma.
6 Many a poor girl that shall mourn That lost her love that won't return; She can weep, and she can mourn; His body lies at Alma.
7 The Russians I have heard them say They lost ten thousand men that day, And fourteen hundred Scottish byes lay Upon the heights of Alma. |
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