so mon dieu
to this field we come
foes at last
our knives are whetted
our hatchets are honed
our spirits strong
to settle one more time
to prove one more time
that strength is found
only in grit, spit, and muscle
we shared our bread
we spoke of peace
it was a good day
one to cherish
one to tell our children
and hope they remember
caught as they can be in
living
our bloods will mix
recorded in the earth
for as long as it shall live
and as it must be
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