With steady step and concentrated rage,
Fated to fight in some strange catacomb
My magic soldiers march across the page.
Their battleground's a many-chambered cage.
They must march in beneath its hostile dome
With steady step and concentrated rage.
Want must suffice them when they reach that stage--
They'll have no fresh supplies, no hope of home.
My magic soldiers march across the page.
They must not kill the foes that they engage,
But capture them and never further roam
With steady step and concentrated rage--
No, they must stay and serve without a wage,
Slaves to their captives till they lie in loam.
My magic soldiers march across the page.
Whether they live a day, a month, an age,
Whether they dine on dust or honeycomb,
With steady step and concentrated rage,
My magic soldiers march across the page.
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