Cut

wind on his face that day
sun warmed his back

steady green soldier
you’ll fall in this attack

raise your blades now
we must hold the line

on the distant hill
thundered evil whine

times is here lads
serve your land well

smell the hacking sabre
taste the bloody hell

at once they were on us
gleaming uniform of red

horses black and rolling
tracks among the dead

defend your field captain
stand tall in your row

today you will die
it’s time again to mow

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