PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Blood and honor they cried
the charge of the death march
on the battlefield where they died

For love of god and country and men
chosen by the few the powerful
chosen are the children

To be born to be pure of race
to cleanse the filthy whore
let there be not a trace

Pure and strong we are the best
the shadow of the strong arm grows
may the weak will die under the foot of the west.