A Poem

I came across this on facebooks Help our Wounded site.

For They Are The Royal Marines

Footsteps, blood red from glories of the past
Fleeting moments, memories cannot last.
Hail the heroes swathed in gold.
Laurel bedecked men of steel, with manner bold.

Blood red footsteps ever onward plod
Ever forwards over sun scorched sod.
Through Hail and Sleet, Snow and Rain
Never falter, advancing strain, irrespective of terrain

Through frozen, sun stroked, retching ill,
They are here to fight and fight they will,
They’ll battle with courage and consummate skill,
For defeat is a far too bitter pill.

They wear a Green Beret; they wear it with pride,
They laugh at adversity and brush it aside,
Yet they are but human, they feel fear, they feel pain,
But when they are in action they never complain.

They reach their objective, capture or kill,
What they do, they do with a will.
They are men of distinction, the cream of the crop,
They surmount every obstacle, they never do stop.

For they are the finest the worlds ever seen,
The ultimate professional fighting machine,
They are the first and they are the foremost.
They lay their lives on the line for country and Queen.

But they think nothing of it They are the Royal Marines.
[align=center]THE PILGRIMS :
We are the Pilgrims, master; we shall go
Always a little further: it may be
Beyond the last blue mountain barred with snow,
Across that angry or that glimmering sea,
White on a throne or guarded in a cave
There lives a prophet who can understand
Why men were born: but surely we are brave,
Who make the Golden Journey to Samarkand[/align]
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