MARCHERS, HAIL
(1)
Marchers, stop. Stop in your tracks,
You weary bands of brothers in arms,
Were art you to now?
Maybe to some land;
To fight in some distant war.
And is glory all you seek?
Or is it the coins that jangle
In your purse that move you.
(2)
Marcher, rest, make merry.
Your faces carry the scars of battles
And your bronzed skin tells
Of the hard days and nights you survived.
So are your experiences
Not worth pondering on?
Will you not, ever regret?
The lives you extinguished?
(3)
Hail; you bearer of arms.
Your gun dangles in its keep.
Fighting with guns is but cowardice.
Fight with swords to prove your worth.
Fight with honour, fight for glory.
Fight for love, not for hate.
Fight for peace and freedom.
Fight for the righteous and not for greed.
