‘Em Boots

 

On and on

The boots trudged on.

Through slick and slime, 

And Mangled flesh, from shrapnel torn. 

The boots, they didn’t care. 

They had orders that bind 

And duty and missions 

That do turn a man blind. 

Pay the piper, one must 

To ensure triumph, a decisive win. 

The price to be paid 

With blood, bone and skin. 

The boots move on, 

Their soles only slightly soiled ;

Indifferent lacing and leather, 

The war machine’s well oiled. 

The wearer of the boots. 

They aren’t deaf, you know, 

Sights and sound to shock the soul, 

Can nary force the march to slow. 

Resolute boot prints, 

Over sand, soil and snow; 

The message sent out loud and clear 

Wherever they go. 

The boots are here to stay 

Till their destruction is done. 

Once they’ve blotted out your Sun, 

They’ll move on as one.