By Yarrula
Goodbeasts now, gather round here,
Here is a story, full of fear.
Of brave creatures, who gave their life,
To rid this land from it's dire strife.
A vermin army, gathered there,
Causing distruction everywhere.
Who will follow, to defeat this;
An evil army, and death's kiss.
Sharpen your sword, restring your bow,
Garner up round pebbles to throw.
Tie up your boot, strap on your shield,
We are the force that will not yield.
March down the road, on footpaws sore,
Gather your kin, trek off to war.
With spear raised and banner flying,
We're off to where troops are dying.
A grim sight, the enemy horde,
Lead by a barbarian lord.
Raising a sword, shouting the charge,
The armies clash, in battle large.
Clouds of arrows, darken the sky,
Raise your weapon, prepare to die.
You steel yourself to take a life,
To protect your family, friend, life.
Hear the army commander's call,
See the bodies of good friends fall.
Dead and injured litter the ground,
The stench of blood is all around.
Back and forth, the battle goes,
How it will end, no one can know.
Until the greatest comes to pass,
The vermin leader breathes his last.
Press on! The final charge is here!
Ignore the carnage, repress fear.
Find the last reserves of power,
This is the final fighting hour.
The war is done, your grasp is weak,
Rest and home is all that you seek.
You look around, at comrades dead,
And dread the grusome task ahead.
The mangled soldiers, laid to rest,
Wreaths of flowers laid at their breast.
Homeward bound, the pace a slow walk,
No one has the spirit to talk.
A hero's welcome greets your ear,
From land free of abuse and fear.
But cries of sorrow are raised high,
For those that marched away to die.
War has wrought a terrible cost,
We reflect upon what we lost,
Battle's price is too high I'll say,
But freedom's price, I'll gladly pay.