Since this was inspired by your Sharpe Books, I figured it only right to share it with you. I just finished Sharpe’s Prey by the way, Thank you very much for the effort that you must put into these stories. For me at least it is worth it every dry history book you must wade through (better you then me I must say :-) ). Enjoy :-) James Fryer

Battalion

———
As I sit upon the western shore
and see the tall ships sailing by,
I think that I will breath no more
and I look back on my life and think why?

With the east wind blowing through my hair
and the sounds of the docks nearby.
I know that in my heart so fair
that she has gone and I can’t cry.

The call to arms I have received
to serve country, god and king.
I will leave behind no bereaved
when the ship does take its wing.

The eastern lands are amok with war,
and the dictator dominates all.
But this army will beat him back and more,
beat him back against the wall.

Our thin red line of men shall stand
four rounds a minute we shall serve.
By horse and steel and gun and hand
we shall give them what they deserve.

The scottish bagpipes sound.
The deep tight drums are struck.
The orders given, and we are bound
to stand still and die, don’t run amok.

And die we do, and die damn well
for the enemy cannot move us.
“Talion raise arms” the sergeants yell.
Flint is locked, no need to fuss

“For King and Country!” is the cry,
the command of “Fire!” does follow.
The world disappears, we cannot see them die,
and I kneel to reload, feeling hollow

The world shrinks down,
to just me and my fellows.
I see that my red coat is torn and brown
and all around me, the cries, the bellows.

Onward they march, will this never end.
Four rounds a minute and my shoulder is raw.
But we stand and we hold, never to bend.
And the world can but rightly hold us in awe.

For we are the redcoats, the goddamns, the scum,
the pickpockets, murderers and thieves.
But we march like the rest to the beat of the drum,
and we will give them gladly what they must receive.

We will march o’er the hills and far away,
to fields of battle that we sow
With loaded muskets into the fray,
and onwards we will ever go.