There is the gentle patter of rain,

As all the soldiers make their bow,

As they head off to war.

The last one was won,

And this time too, they hope for a win,

But times have changed now.

Out in a boat, some civilians row,

A man in a chair, rests his broken rib,

A sandwich packet, is dropped in the bin,

And poor children, they eat carrots raw,

When finally the trumpet rings out, sounding like a boar.

The End

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