Rat- a- tat- tat
The rhythmic beat
As drums urge on
The marching feet
Then bugles blow
To raise the pace
On to the front
The foe to face
Sergeants shouting
At one and all
Determined that
The pace won’t fall
Colours waving
All held high
Reminders of
The wars gone by
Full of vigour
These boys and men
How many will
March home again
On some foreign
Territory
They will fight for
Lasting glory
Some will live and
Some will perish
Remembered by
The ones they cherish
But who will mend
The broken shell
Of those poor souls
Who marched to hell