Hussar ©

Fest as my kilted legs cad rin,
I hie’d in panics' haste
for the wids.

Breath labourin' in painfu' gasps,
I heard the taunting
o' his pursuit.

Death chased me wi' a light cavalry sabre
an' I cad hear his laughter
chasing my fleein' self,

But rising fae a grassy knoll afore me,
green clad an' Baker armed,
a rifle shot rang oot.

A scream o' mounted Frenchie
is what I heard
an' fa'in' tae my knees,

I looked back at my demon.
Pelisse purple,
stained wi' red heart shot

Ower he catapulted backwards,
shako doon and dead
afore his groond fa'.

Loud huzzahs fae hidden riflemen,
an' the shooter laughing noo
as he bowed in glory.