Last Call To War
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Behold thee men of Castle Ballyclogh!
Our weary souls doth tread once more to war,
To march the winds of death and wintry snow.
Most likely fate opens thee heaven’s door.
O Lord, prepare this beast, with dreaded teeth,
to tear the flesh from enemy of dusk.
Grant us the victory - a manelike wreath,
the snap of crocodile, a mammoth’s tusk.
Kiss kindred ghosts of womankind and child.
Thy mind remains on course - don’t hear their cry.
Ever sweeter tis your return...be riled,
Of readiness for battle’s blood. Don’t die!*
Once more thee men of Castle Ballyclough,
We march the winds of death and wintry snow!
9/6/2020
A WARRIOR SONNET
SPONSOR: JOHN LAWLESS
*dictionary shows battle as 2 syllables,
but howmanysyllables.com has it at 1.
Copyright © Kim Rodrigues | Year Posted 2020
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