Round about the silent valley, does now doom’s legion stand,
Looking down upon the slumbering, encamped rebellious band.
In unison, their swords against battle worn shields, begin to beat,
It sounds of crashing thunder, jolting resting rebels, to their feet.
Then with machine-like steps, they lean forward in their slow advance,
Against a camp in chaos, which of survival now, holds so little chance.
Eyes fixed ahead, toward the coming clash, of hot and bloodied steel.
They slash and tread asunder, all those who surrender, and before them kneel.
For it is not prisoners, for which they come, on this or any other day,
Nor is it their true purpose, to bring peace, or to this rebellion stay.
It’s not loyalty or honor, that has this legion duty bound,
No, not in these or any lofty principles, is their motive to be found.
It’s only at the behest of lies and greed, that they now strike down and defeat all foes,
With heartless precision, they’ve come to be the legion, from whom all blood now flows.
C. J. Marshowler
