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Poetry from within
   

Comrades in Arms


Amid the roar of cannon and choking cordite fumes,

Came the squadron of Lancers beneath a sea of dancing plumes,

Their chain mail reflecting the early morning light,

As with lance tip pennants streaming, they headed for the fight.



The enemy guns were sited for maximum effect,

Taking dreadful toll of the infantry, advancing determined and erect,

The red coated infantry pressed forward across the plain,

As constant enemy fire continue to kill and maim.



The colonel of the Lancers observed his comrades plight,

And gave the order to his squadron, to wheel to the right,

Coming up behind the infantry who were advancing at the run,

He took his squadron through their ranks, and charged the enemy guns.



With lances dipped they swept ahead, a glittering hedge of steel,

As the spirit of the gunners broke, and terror they began to feel,

The Lancers drove through the guns, spearing left and right,

As the red coated infantry with bayonets fixed, entered into the fight.





The guns finally silenced, their uniforms blood flecked,

The Lancer and the Red Coat eyed each other with respect,

The bugles sound recall and across the war torn plain,

The Red Coat and the Lancer reform their ranks again.



As the Red Coats march away to the music of the flute,

The Lancers dip their pennants in a gesture of salute.




Len Payne