Left right we go.
Like ants we grow.
Marching in the sun,
A show.
Maybe it's fun,
But slow.
Till you hear the calling.
The army sounds it's culling
For only those who win the day,
have the right to say,
it's home I'll stay.
Jun 16, 2016
Jun 16, 2016 at 2:34 PM UTC
Left right we go.
Like ants we grow.
Marching in the sun,
A show.
Maybe it's fun,
But slow.
Till you hear the calling.
The army sounds it's culling
For only those who win the day,
have the right to say,
it's home I'll stay.
Request permission to use this poem