The cost

Boots polished until they shine
by soldiers standing tall and fit
arranged proudly in a line
as brothers, friends, a unit.

They fight for a noble ideal
and carry the banner high
with nerves and backbones of steel
charging forward through the sky.

But they just were not ready
for what was in store
and they could not stay steady
before the true horror of war.

Only some came home carrying their valor,
their haunted eyes, and deathly pallor.

The ravens’ cry

Hear now a familiar tale
of wartime pageantry.
Can you hear the ravens’ wail?

They traveled far over hill and dale
and forests ripe with trees.
Hear now a familiar tale.

Arriving at last, hearty and hale,
to fight for their country.
Can you hear the ravens’ wail?

They clashed against, with weapon and mail,
the rival infantry.
Hear now a familiar tale.

Blood quenching the ground, a hearty ale
poured from men at their knees.
Can you hear the ravens’ wail?

None were left to say which side prevailed
in that visceral sea.
Hear now a familiar tale –
can you hear the ravens’ wail?