Make the ridge as deadly night disrobes its covered cloak
Before revealing of ourselves, as fearsome fighting sight
We’ve tabbed for miles on bleak terrain with Bergen as our yoke
Through hours of dank filled darkness fading now into the light
Such load we bear in equal share, we’ve hauled across this land
A promontory edge we’ve sought in gaining higher ground
By taking of strategic mount, in combat hand to hand
All we needed to secure was carried pound for pound
Walking tall or falling prone in premature demise
Amongst the wasted weary bones of Brothers, downed by deadly fire
We carry weight of conscience still, as set before our eyes
Now my Bergen presses down as part of death’s attire