Every once in a while the fields rumble
when cuirasses and greaves clatter on the march
and sword and shield rattle in unision
while a robin sings his tune in the thickets,
unaware of the great king's defiant speech,
fuel for the brave and the petrified
should there be any breaks in the line
when the enemy advances in formation
like driver ants marching in a column,
arrows buttering up their impeding obstacle
before steel rings against steel
and dying scream blends with battle cry.
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