Battle Cry

Night falls on a distant land,

Where streets are filled with blood and gore.

If you were to travel there you would see

The battle scars of a recent war.

Tears of sorrow and pain are cried

By women who slowly walk the streets.

They check the bodies that line the road;

The city's army had been beat.

The ambush had come by surprise,

The guards did not have time to warn.

Men jumped up to grab their arms,

But the city's flag had already been torn.

The men, to prove their loyalty,

Did not flee from the hopeless fight.

The battle's toll was quite ghastly,

Not one man survived the night.

The opposing army, their numbers few,

Retreated back to their homeland.

This slaughter they weren't pleased to do,

But their captain was an undaunted man.

At the start of the battle one brave, strong man,

Stood himself up in front of the men.

To get their attention he lifted his gun

In a strong but trembling hand.

That day he died in the gruesome battle,

But his battle cry still rang in their ears:

"Yes, death may come first, but the pain comes last.

Then only God you shall fear.

Yes we may perish, but if we die, it shall not be in vain.

For we fight with honor and bravery, but most of all we fight with faith."