182 the trooper

THE TROOPER

You take my life but I'll take yours too

ju teǺk maǺ laǺf bǩt aǺl teǺk jǤəz tuə|

You fire your musket but I run you through

ju fa(Ǻ)ǩ jǤə mȜskǺt bǩt aǺ rȜn ju θruə |

So when you're waiting for the next attack

sǩȚ wen jǤə weǺtǺŋ fǩ ðǩ nekst ǩtæk |

You'd better stand there's no turning back.

jud betǩ stæn(d) ðeǩz nǩȚ tǬənǺŋ bæk |

The bugle sounds - the charge begins

ðǩ bjuəDZlʜ saȚn(d)z | ðǩ tȓǡədȢ bǺDZǺnz |

but on this battlefield no one wins

bǩt Ǣn ðǺs bætlfiəl(d) nǩȚ wȜn wǺnz |

the smell of acrid smoke and horse’s breath

ðǩ smel ǩv ækrǺd smǩȚk ǩn(d) hǤəsǩz

as I plunge on into certain death.

breθ|
ǩz aǺ plȜndȢ Ǣn Ǻntǩ sǬətnʜ deθ |

The horse he sweats with fear - we break to
run
the mighty roar of the Russian guns
and as we race towards the human wall
the screams of pain as my comrades fall.
We hurdle bodies that lay on the ground

ðǩ hǤəs (h)i swets wǺð fǺǩ |wi breǺk tǩ rȜn |
ðǩ maǺti rǤər ǩv ðǩ rȜȓ(ǩ)n DZȜnz |
ǩnd ǩz wi reǺs tǩwǤədz ðǩ hjuəmǩn wǤəl |
ðǩ skriəmz ǩv peǺn ǩz maǺkǢmreǺdz fǤəl |

wi hǬədlʜ bǢdǺz ðǩt leǺ Ǣn ðǩ DZraȚnd|

and the Russians fire another round

ǩn(d) ðǩ rȜȓǩnz fa(Ǻ)ǩr ǩnȜðǩ raȚnd|

we get so near yet so far away

wi DZet sǩȚ nǺǩ jet sǩȚ fǡər ǩɑweǺ |

we won't live to fight another day.

wi wǩȚnt lǺv tǩ faǺt ǩnȜðǩ deǺ |

We get so close near enough to fight

wi DZet sǩȚ klǩȚs nǺǩr ǺnȜf tǩ faǺt |

When a Russian gets me in his sights

wen ǩ rȜȓ(ǩ)n DZets miə Ǻn Ǻz saǺts |

He pulls the trigger and I feel the blow

hi pȚlz ðǩ trǺDZǩr ǩnd aǺ fiəl ðǩ blǩȚ|

a burst of rounds take my horse below.

ǩ bǬəst ǩv raȚn(d)z teǺk maǺ hǤəs bǺlǩȚ |

And as I lay there gazing at the sky

ǩnd ǩz aǺ leǺ ðeǩ DZeǺzǺŋ ǩt ðǩ skaǺ |

My body's numb and my throat is dry

maǺ bǢdiz nȜm ǩnd maǺ θrǩȚt Ǻz draǺ |

And as I lay forgotten and alone

ǩnd ǩz aǺ leǺ fǩDZǢtnʜ ǩnd ǩlǩȚn |

Without a tear I draw my parting groan.

COMPILED JUAN CARLOS DAVID

wǺðaȚt ǩ tǺǩr aǺ drǤə maǺ pǡətǺŋ DZrǩȚn |