Note: A quick piece, told from the perspective of an old Red Army soldier, recalling the days on which he marched among his comrades.
Written in iambic tetrameter with a 'Chant royal' rhyme scheme. Hopefully more accurately this time around.
Note 2: Error in the description. "An old soldier" is correct.
March of the Red Army
How dark were those long days of war,
so cruel and filled with wrath and flame,
how seared the flesh of men, the gore,
and foes did take our last of fame.
Yet we broke loose, so fierce and bold,
and charged as those above had told,
to strike the helm and pierce the wretch,
and take away our rightful stretch,
oh yes, so did we kill the foe,
and there we saw of war the sketch.
Oh yes, so did we kill the foe!
Behind the fight had left us cold,
Our comrades did we, shaken, hold,
who fell for glory, our homestretch,
a victory to proudly fetch!
Oh yes, so did we valor show,
and into stone our tale we etch!
Oh yes, so did we valor show!
On roads so wide, in trenches deep,
we stand in lines, in eager troves,
prepared our blades and arms we keep,
to dry the mouths of Nazi droves!
The mud and rocks do fill the air,
above our heads is shot a flare,
so Red, as flags of Soviet ranks,
and then rolled in the fearsome tanks,
oh yes, on that day we were free,
and so we give our heartfelt thanks!
Oh yes, on that day we were free!
With wrath we had the foe on shanks,
in flames of rifles, turning cranks,
oh please, my girl, do come for me,
before the foe our force outranks,
oh please, my girl, do come for me!
And when we broke through Nazi lines,
then weary through the streets we marched,
the sun upon you, comrades, shines,
as one we peer from ledges parched,
in union, friends, we staunchly clashed,
against the foe with terror lashed,
the monster we so stiffly broke,
and felled its force in one swift stroke!
How few I killed, such deep regret,
with blood my blade I hadn't soaked,
how few I killed, such deep regret!
Now I ride home, my soul so thrashed,
my breath it broke and conscience slashed,
I say as you and me evoke,
these visions old, beneath the oak,
oh yes, such was the Soviet March,
for then we did protect the folk.
Oh yes, such was the Soviet March!