Blood of Patriots & Tyrants

Rifle barrels forged by smiths with fire and hammers blow,
March with men onto field or into wood, bloody seeds of liberty to sew.

Clutched in jaws is sharpened flint, whose sparks ignite the fire of freedoms thunder.
The smoke they belch, the ball they throw, tears tyrants in red coats asunder.

Piercing cries of mortal wound rise from dying soldiers,
A haze of smoke hangs in the air, a skirmish that smolders.

A lull in death, a pause in pain,
Red Coat officers prepare troops to fire again.

Hissing, whistling, smacking lead flies into formations from treeline.
Patriots remain unseen, as rifles crack in time.

Strength in numbers win not at this game.
This is not just war, nor is it Europe's plain.

Hearts of freemen yearn for death or liberty,
They will not show these tyrants charity.

Violations and trespasses have been the rule.
Violence now the answer to the cruel.

These arms men bear are last resort
Petitions rejected, the crack of rifle their retort.

Cannons pound distant hills,
Cavalry dash with daring skills.

Hawk and blade tear flesh from bone.
These men will fight for what is right until they are alone.

Soil watered by blood of patriots and tyrants a crimson hew
Will nurture the tree of liberty, and bring forth a nation new.

By Denny Ducet