I edited the original poem a bit, if others could work on it as well to make it sound better, that would be great, especially if you come up with something better than mounted brigade for the name.
1.
Half a mile, half a mile,
Half a mile onward,
All in the Desert of Death
Rode the six hundred.
"Forward, the Mounted Brigade!
"Charge for the column!" he said:
Into the Desert of Death
Rode the six hundred.
2.
"Forward, the Mounted Brigade!"
Was there a man dismay'd?
Not tho' the soldier knew
Arstotzka had blunder'd:
Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to do and die:
Into the Desert of Death
Rode the six hundred.
3.
Infantry to right of them,
Infantry to left of them,
The Coulumn in front of them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
Boldly they rode and well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of Hell
Rode the six hundred.
4.
Flash'd all their sabres bare,
Flash'd as they turn'd in air,
Sabring the Arstotzkans there,
Charging an army, while
All the world wonder'd:
Plunged in the foul death
Right thro' the line they broke;
Cossack and Arstotzka
Reel'd from the sabre stroke
Shatter'd and sunder'd.
Then they rode back, but not
Not the six hundred.
5.
Death to right of them,
Death to left of them,
Death laid waste behind them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
While horse and hero fell,
They that had fought so well
Came thro' the jaws of Death
Back from the mouth of Hell,
All that was left of them,
Left of six hundred.
6.
When can their glory fade?
O the wild charge they made!
All the world wondered.
Honor the charge they made,
Honor the Mounted Brigade,
Noble six hundred.