We drew our swords to fight a war,

A war that’s not worth fighting for.

We searched around through day and night,

But our enemy’s camp was not in sight.


From where we camped in Manly Grove,

The burning wood became our stove.

We filled our bellies on rice and meat,

For the next few days we’ll barely eat.


We rested our heads, with blankets tucked,

The fear in our minds could not be plucked.

I close my eyes and try to sleep,

Though none would say, we heard lads weep.


Scenes of horror play through my head

Of vile fiends that want me dead.

Don’t they know I’m not that bad?

Then I’ve been told they are all mad.


With a moments sleep I wake in the morning,

Weary soldiers are given warning.

For two days plus we march on south,

To take control of The Devil’s Mouth.


We’ve had our fights we’ve easily won,

Though a true winner, there was none.

We lost some good lads on the way

I’m sure our foe’s had same to say.


We trooped on south ‘til the drop of sun,

Though no enemy came, not a one.

Anxiously we trotted through.

Hoping a fight would come by soon.


We itched for foul scum to kill,

For there’s no women to cure our ill.

If there’s no love then fight we must,

To help contain our boiling lust.


The second day held not much new,

Above us high the vultures flew.

The Devil’s Mouth, we see afar,

Though no combat for us so far.


On the third we took the Mouth,

With no resistance we continue south.

We left some men to hold the ground,

And carried on, evil must be found.


As the weeks went on and on,

We whistled a slow and lonely song.

Some villages were found, but all were slain.

Their rotted corpses all only remained.


Further south the air got warm,

The towns more frequent and more birds swarm.

Our men grew tired as food got scarce,

Morale hit low; it was called it a farce.


The sight of Sutherton raised spirits high,

Men hurried for food or bed for the night.

My hopes weren’t so bold as we passed through the field,

No farmers or grazers do these paddocks yield.


The draw bridge was down, the portcullis raised.

We enter the city in a confused daze.

For bodies are scattered and strewn through the streets,

But again no monsters, no hoards to meet.


Each city that came by was the same story told.

And still there’s no battle, our arms grow old.

We sit by each fire with no tale of the past.

For our memories failed as the months pass.


It had been so long for a fight to win,

That the men’s patience was unbearably thin.

We lost a few to a friendly blade.

In a sea of doubt I start to wade.


If we do not fight is there purpose for us?

A three year campaign and still no fuss.

As the journey grows the numbers thin.

And no new recruits to fill them in.


I’ve grown distant from the other men.

With their bickering and fighting I want none of them.

So I’m alone most days thinking of life,

Dream of a town to find me a wife.


Through months of contemplation the army gets small.

And the war that was my life looked like it would fall.

The more I journey, the memories grew,

Of all the poor and the strong that we slew.


I’ve been like this so long that it feels right,

Instead of to be, to take up the fight.

With morale so low I give up my way.

And march on pointlessly every day.


Now hope is gone memories come back aflood,

All the lands we have conquered, a reign in blood

With no one left to kill, they all turn on me,

And so is the plight of the last army.

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