There's the buzzer

Halftime is here

I hear the tick off

And step on the field

Our line marches forward

Perfectly straight

Knowing our spots as

We each count to eight

The quiet cadence

Of our common thoughts

Is almost audible

As we come to our stops

As we listen for our

Drum major's command

We are at attention

Not moving, we stand

They ask if we're ready

There's her salute

Then the sound of

Climbing, metal and boots

Still we're not moving

From our first arc

Until we hear a shout

"Mark time mark"

Our heels move up and

Down on the beats

In perfect rhythm

Not a break, not a crease

Turning in four

Horns up as we go

Then play the fanfare

As loud as we can blow

Then off we go

For the rest of the song

Forward and backward

Hope no one's wrong

Many diagonals, circles

And lines

The applause at the end

That's a good sign