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Bell the Howitzer
It was here in the clearing
—The cast iron killing,
Spears rendered fat
On gears seared in the sun
Sore feet beat the street
While vultures pick the meat,
The defeated—left to rot
now reduced merely to thoughts
"Bell the Howitzer
Where the cowards go"
The commander tells his men,
"Let them sing it's song..."
He says while taking a pull of Whiskey
"...Let them feel it's glow"
