1
Half a league, half a league,
Half a league onward,
All in the valley of Bipolar
Rode the six hundred.
"Forward, the manic depressive!
"Charge for the meds!" he said:
Into the valley of Bipolar
Rode the six hundred.

2
"Forward, the Manic depressive!"
Was there a man dismay'd?
Not tho' the mentally ill knew
Someone had blunder'd:
Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to do and medicate:
Into the valley of Bipolar
Rode the six hundred.

3
Mania to right of them,
Mania to left of them,
Mania in front of them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with pills and capsules,
Boldly they rode and well,
Into the jaws of Mania,
Into the mouth of Depression
Rode the six hundred.

4
Flash'd all their meds bare,
Flash'd as they turn'd in air,
Pushing the rxers there,
Charging an society, while
All the world wonder'd:
Plunged in the Mania
Right thro' the line they broke;
Manic and Depressive
Manic from the sabre stroke
Shatter'd and sunder'd.
Then they rode back, but not
Not the six hundred.

5
Depression to right of them,
Depression to left of them,
Depression behind them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with pills and capsules,
While Pdoc and hero fell,
They that had fought so well
Came thro' the jaws of Mania
Back from the mouth of Depression,
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.
Honour the charge they made,
Honour the Bipolars,
Noble six hundred.




* a parody of “charge of the light brigade” no plagiarism intended