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Battle March Dirge
We March through the rain and we March through the snow
Our feet have got the rot and our hearts have turned to stone.
Never once forgetting the pretty maid we left,
But we'll not see her again cause we're off to dance with death.
We March through the swamp and we March up the hills.
Our fingers have been frostbit, our hands we cannot feel.
Remembering the warmth of that pretty maid we left,
That we'll never see again cause we're off to dance with death.
We March towards the enemy and we March to our end.
Our legs are giving out, haven't slept since God knows when.
Hoping she smiles over our rest, that pretty maid we left,
We'll never see her lovely smile cause we're off to dance with death.
© The Moonlight Bard
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