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From The March to Moscow
The Russians they stuck close to him
All On the road from Moscow—
And Shouvaloff he shovell'd them off,
And Markoff he mark'd them off,
And Krosnoff he cross'd them off,
And Touchkoff he touch'd them off,
And Boroskoff he bored them off,
And Kutousoff he cut them off,
And Parenzoff he pared them off,
And Worronzoff he worried them off,
And Doctoroff he doctor'd them off,
And Rodinoff he ilogg'd them off.
And, last of all, an Admiral came,
A terrible man with a terrible name,
A name which you all knoAv by sight very well,
But which no one can speak, and no one can spell.
And then came on the frost and snow
All on the road from Moscow.
Worse and worse every day the elements grew,
The fields were so white and the sky was so blue,
Sacrebleu! Ventrebleu!
What a horrible journey from Moscow.
Too cold upon the road was he;
Too hot he had been at Moscow;
But colder and hotter he may be,
For the grave is colder than Muscovy;
And a place there is to be kept in view,
Where the fire is red, and the brimstone blue,
Morbleu! Parbleu!
But there he must stay for a very long day,
For from thence there is no stealing away,
As there was on the road from Moscow.
ROBERT SOUTHEY
93