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The Infanteer
Ronald George Hunter Australia (Verified User) Posts 4314 Dogs 0 / Races 0 25 Feb 2018 01:06
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He is born to the earth, on the day he enlists He is sentenced to life, on many colored soils To march on it, crawl on it, dig in it, sprawl on it Then try to sleep on it, after his varied and many toils
Be it sand, rock or ice, gravel, mud or red loam He still will fight on it bravely, eventually die The crude little cross, telling men of his loss Will cry mutely, to many a foreign sky
He's the tired looking man, in the untidy garb Weatherbeaten, footsore, with much untold fatigue But his spirit is still strong, as he marches along With his burdens, for league upon many leagues
He attacks in the face, of such murderous fire Crawling forward, attacking through slimy mud Then he breaks through the lines, over wire and mines And there, on the point of his bayonet, is blood
Should you meet him, untidy, begrimed and fatigued Don't indulge in much unwarranted mirth For the brave Infanteer, deserves more than a sneer For he is truly, the very salt of this earth.
Tor Janes Australia (Verified User) Posts 10018 Dogs 16 / Races 0 25 Feb 2018 02:57