by | Apr 9, 2010 | Poetry | 0 comments

Cold silver steel shines from beneath
As shining blade divests its sheath
Shows spots of rust where blood has dried
And widow wives dark tears have cried.

Steel shining cold in morning sun
From its might, the enemy run
Its name is fear on tremble lips
Know well, with might its fury rips.

Call her She, or just simply Miss
It cleaves the air with vipers hiss
Men, this blade so lovingly hone
That cuts through war-torn flesh and bone.

With love her owner strokes the length
He feels the blade and grows in strength
Its lust for blood insatiable
As battle cries the air does fill.

In killers hand: Soldier blue
The blade takes lives all good and true
And so die brothers, fathers, sons
Killed by steel cold, and not by guns.

In European field of war
Named after town that saw such gore
This cold steel blade much blood does let
Is named the thirsty Bayonet.


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