Battle

In the morn, so very early,
In the tree-tops, overhead,
Came light of dawn so pearly,
Pearly, with a tinge of red.

It was then they ‘gan their shooting,
Shooting through the mist and shade,
And the fierceness of their shooting
Shot our courage to “afraid.”

Yet we dug in ever deeper,
Waiting still for them to come,
Till at last we were the Reaper,
Piling high the hated scum!

We aimed and shot, shot and shot,–
They fell like stones, all broken!
Fear was near, but we were clear
Ours was the good, awoken!

Now we stand above our holes,
Pushing dead baastards in.
Evil ones lost bodies, souls;
Glad are the good to win.

In the eve, so very early
Through the tree-tops overhead,
There are sunset clouds, so pearly,
Pearly, with a tinge of red.

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