| 1 entry | | |  | | | | its me. | wrote | | He is tied to the soil from which he was born,
He works through the dusk, But still greets the
Dawn.
Come snow, come sunshine, Come hail, Come rain,
No matterwhat odds, over terrain,
Hillside and forest, marshland or plain,
Mile after mile ignoring the pain,
Standing tall, steadfast for the flag he holds
dear,
Despising the myth that lesser men call fear,
Living each day full of blood sweat and tears,
A god amongst mortals, the
mighty
Infanteer | | | | | 1 entry | | |
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