Of the Marshes

Through the marshes they straggle

In twos and in threes,

While the lark sings out softly

To the hum of the bees,

And the toad finds his shadow

At the roots of the trees,

With a bum-bum-bum slosh

Through the marshes.

And they're knee-deep in soil

Sinking waist-deep in sludge,

While the drums keep on pounding

Every step of the trudge,

Waving flags of defeat

A white shirt on a broomstick.

But the soil is too thick.

Through the marshes.

The End

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