Poetry

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It calls for your children your daughter or son,

and bears no respect for ‘the person, the one’.

Don’t cower, an animal wounded and lost!

Bear up your country, shoulder the cost.

Be ready to die at the call of the drum.

 

The fighting is done with a type and a click,

one of one hundred now fight in the thick.

Boldly supported while on the front line,

their wounds are forgotten at home after time,

who dare to answer the call of the drum.

 

The call of the righteous will always be;

though chains of tyranny smother our word.

So live fight and die behind the idea,

no man woman or child should live in fear,

when we answer the call of the drum.

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