Corb Lund

Corb Lund - Horse Soldier, Horse Soldier

rate me

I'm a hussar, I'm a Hun, I'm a wretched Englishman

Routing Bonaparte at Waterloo

I'm a dragoon on a dun, I'm a Cossack on the run

I'm a horse soldier, timeless, through and through

Well I's with Custer and the 7th in ‘76 or ‘77

Scalped at Little Big Horn by the Sioux

And the tears and desperation of a once proud warrior nation

This I know ‘cause I was riding with them too

I drank mare's blood on the run when I rode with the Great Khan

On the frozen Mongol steppe while at his height

And I's a White Guard, I's a Red Guard, I's the Tsar's own palace horse guard

When Romanoff was murdered in the night

I knew Salah al-Din and rode his swift Arabians

Harassing doomed crusaders on their heavy drafts

And yet I rode the Percheron against the circling Saracen

And once again against myself was cast

Well I've worn the Mounties crimson, if you're silent and you listen

You'll know that it was with them that I stood

When Mayerthorpe, she cried, as her four horsemen died

Gunned down in scarlet, coldest blood

Well I's the firstest with the mostest when I fought for Bedford Forrest

Suffered General Wilson's Union raid

Mine was not to reason why, mine was but to do and die

At Crimea with the charging light brigade

On hire from Swiss or Sweden, be me Christian, be me heathen

The devil to the sabre I shall put

With a crack flanking maneuver, I'm an uhlan alles uber

Striking terror into regiment of foot

I knew my days were numbered when o'er the trenches lumbered

More modern machinations de la guerre

No match for rapid fire or the steel birds of the sky

With a final rear guard action I retreat

No match for barb-ed wire or the armoured engines whine

Reluctant I retire and take my leave

Today I ride with special forces on those wily Afghan horses

Dostum's Northern Alliance give their thanks

No matter defeat or victory, in battle it occurs to me

That we may see a swelling in our ranks

Well I's with the Aussies at Beersheba took the wells so badly needed

And with the Polish lancers charging German tanks

Saw Ross' mount shot down at Washingtown the night we burned the White House down

And cursed the sack of York and sons of Yanks

Thanks to corbfan for these lyrics

Thanks to Greg Todd for these lyrics

Thanks to Illian for correcting these lyrics

Get this song at:

Share your thoughts

0 Comments found