Trenchant
by [REDACTED]
We look to the north
And you feel that timeworn fear
We gather our shovels
And our trowels
To begin that hard work of battle
The Enemy runs deep
The roots of evil spreading everywhere
Nasty saplings springing up
All along the run
Like fire under unremitting sun
We charge the line of foes
You stumble but keep your wits
Our knees are dirty from our falls
And yet, today we win the battle.
We rip the opposition root from limb
And throw their bodies on the pyre.
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