Warmongers


By Peter J Marcroft


The troops land, and now the war has begun,
We, the mighty force of the democratic West,
Battling all foes, and our bodies, beneath the blazing sun,
Our blood races fast, as we prepare our conquest.

I can hear the sounds of the media, with their headline,
They'll scavenge, and paint us a bad picture, oh they will!
They'll print the 'facts', that they've heard on the grapevine.
Then the terrorists strike, revenge, a lust to kill.

We'll search for months, seeking a cloaked foe,
Being careful where we tread, avoiding a viper,
Who knows where they are? How far below?
Onwards we search, dodging their sniper.

The press will hound us, like they always do,
We fight for a mighty nation, and get no praise,
Their words cut deep, to the bone through and through,
So our rulers are forced to act and the high stakes raise...