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The pummeling of the drums

Bids a mighty farewell

As beasts from darkest wood

Rise from sylvan wells

For out of the thicket

We march into the moor

Past familiar thistle and heather

Who must battle endure

Onward, onward we march

Without fear or regret

Ne’er a doubtful conviction

Beseech our worthy quest

I weep for what’s been lost

I cry out in lament

My grief shall be my stave

On the solemn march towards death

On the solemn march towards death