The Final Time
That morning awoke, ever so glum
The generals adjusted their saddles.
We fell into place, grim look on my face
I knew it to be my last battle.
We arrived on the hill, that looming hill
The hill that we'd defend
And there we waited, waited, waited
For the enemy to start to ascend.
Here they came, in their grey coats
Spirit to fight in their eyes.
Rifles, bayonets on their shoulders
Pointing straight up toward the skies.
There's a shout, it's Pickett's cry
"Charge!" is that forceful word.
Up the hill they came at a run
Then that first shot was heard.
The bullets fire in all directions
Down upon us they rained.
The men are falling, blue and grey fall
Like a shield in front they are laid.
I hear men scream as comrades fall
But the grey still come at a charge.
The shots still fire, regardless of loss
Though our numbers are not quite as large.
The pain then shot through me
Bullet as straight as a dart.
I fell to my knees, clutching the red
For I had been shot in the heart.
"Win this battle, I won't go in vain.
Make sure to hit your mark."
These few last words were all I could utter
For everything then, went dark.
I am aware that rained and laid is stretched, but I am still trying.
