Cannon fodder: an ottava rima

Praise the Lord and birth more cannon fodder!
Perpetuate our species, one and all!
Salvation’s army needs our sons and daughters;
don’t fret, you may reclaim them when they fall.
Desist from that sad mewling! ‘Tis not slaughter!
They fight to keep the heathens from the wall.
As goes the battle, so will go the war –
until our children won’t march anymore.

04 APR 2013

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