Verse 1
Red earth rising under lion hill,
Morning thin and wide, the air went still,
Divided columns, the camp stood bare,
No trench, no laager, just canvas prayer.
Chelmsford rides with half the flame,
Leaving fate to answer his name.
Verse 2
Martini rifles stacked in rows,
Ammunition boxed but the system slows,
Orders muddled, the line too long,
The guns are strong — the plan is wrong.
Black smoke coils where the firing starts,
History breaks into beating hearts.
Chorus
This is not a tale of spear and hide,
Not empire’s myth or a foolish pride,
Steel met steel and lead met bone,
Men stood fast — and men stood alone.
Red coats fell and shields were torn,
Courage was everywhere that morn.
Verse 3
They came with rifles taken and won,
From traders, battles, the kingdom’s run,
Martini-Henry in Zulu hands,
Thunder answered across the land.
Fire was traded, line for line,
Not savagery — but war in time.
Verse 4
Isandlwana breaks by early noon,
A shattered sun, a blood-red moon,
Colour Sergeant Bourne stands firm and grim,
Counts the living, buries him.
The hill goes quiet, the wind goes dry,
Too many dead to even cry.
Chorus
This is not a tale of spear and hide,
Not empire’s myth or a foolish pride,
Brave men fell where the plan fell through,
Commanders guessed — the soldiers knew.
Red coats fell and shields were torn,
Courage was everywhere that morn.
Verse 5
At Rorke’s Drift the night draws tight,
Chard and Bromhead brace for the fight,
Meal bags stacked and the walls held fast,
Learning lessons written too fast.
The ammo runs, the barrels glow,
And still the Zulu columns go.
Verse 6
They charge through fire, they fall, they rise,
Discipline staring death in the eyes,
No easy villain, no simple song,
Just right and wrong and wrong and wrong.
Victoria’s Crosses, the dawn breaks slow,
Over ground that will always know.
Final Chorus
This is not a tale to make us cheer,
Or polish crowns or wash out fear,
Divide your force, ignore the ground,
And history writes without a sound.
Zulu and Briton — blood and breath,
Equal courage staring death.
Outro
Red earth settles, the rifles rust,
Empires fade, as all things must,
But under that hill, beneath that sky,
Brave men lived — and brave men died.
