The Standard Purchase
Rum-pum-pum went the young man's drum O'er the sound of cannon, through the fire of guns The standard bore under beating sun bade the boy not falter till the battle won
High pitched whistling filled his ears He could not stop marching, he was filled with fear What could be purchased using all his years He thought as he fought back a flood of tears
His old man's grimace had now turned to stone When the call had come and he'd left his home Vowing to his mother, how could he have known That when he'd return he would just be bones.
The sky turns red with the fallen blood The beating cannons, and rhythm of guns And men left dying in the splashing mud But nowhere heard was the sound of drums
Posted Feb 28, 2026, 1:13 PM UTC
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