The Sergeant Major yelled, “Hold fast Boys! This is where we’ll make our stand”

And we knew we’d probably breathed our last in that hellish foreign land.

It was screams and thunder and flying lead as our line just barely held.

We fought as men already dead, to stubborn to be felled.

As the storm of battle reached its peak I made my peace at last.

And the Sergeant’s  voice rang in my ears, “Hold fast me lads. Hold fast”

Then a distant drumming cut through the din, and it gave our Berkshire hearts a thrill

We heard the shouts of those black clad men as they stormed straight up the hill.

The Royal Horse Artillery.  May each of them live long and thrive.

And not one will ever buy a drink as long as I’m alive.

Then 66th made way for them, their steel clad hooves spit sparks.

They wheeled about like men possessed, Gun Captains pointing out their marks

Unlimbered guns now faced the foe as Ayub Khan’s hordes jammed the pass

And the RHA began to fire and hundreds fell on Afghan grass.

It was blood and thunder that afternoon as my comrades fell to left and right.

Then I fell with a shot to my left leg and a fragment in my right

The wagon carried me to the rear as the guns kept roaring on

The Royal Horse Artillery let me live to see another dawn

The battle lost and the colours taken, we left Maiwand in shame

But to my last I’ll raise a glass to the Royal Horse Artillery’s name

Gallant lads with hearts of iron, they stopped disaster on that day

I saw their guns belch flame and steel as wounded there I lay

A proud foot soldier I was back then and so I’ll always be

But as long as I breathe, let no man speak ill of the Royal Horse Artillery

The Royal Horse Artillery