Marching Feet - Poem by Greg Wilkinson
See the marchers, row on row,
Who knows to where or what they go,
And when you hear their marching feet,
The sergeant's roar, the drums they beat.
Think of them, the honoured ones,
With flying fags and beating drums,
And beating drums and dancing feet,
Who dance with Death whom they'll soon greet.
They'll march into the rising dawn,
And breath again upon the morn.
They'll march towards the setting sun,
They'll march in time with beating drum.
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