I was not born a soldier
But I may be one yet
For the fruits of sacrifice
To long remain, lest we forget

The smith that forged my frame at birth
Concealed a sword inside
In muscle, love and sinew bound
Its dormant instinct to divide

We stand as sworn blood-brothers
Bound to all men of the moor
The night's reluctant sentinels
With shared distaste for war

Brigades of sleeping infantry
We guard horizon's light
Until the songs of birds and bells
Asphyxiate the night

The front line of the morning
Lies along dawn's creeping thaw
Where shadows stretch to breaking point
Like corpses strewn across the floor

The last remaining corners
Of the night flushed into day
Chased down by spears of rising sun
Filed sharp to keep the dark at bay

And by the time night's throes have stilled
Bright morning streaks the sky
The vapour trails of tracer planes
Like silver needles dangling high
From the ancient beams of our beloved proud cathedral’s ceiling