Lead Soldiers

Tommy's soldiers march to battle,Trumpets flare and snare-drums rattle.Bayonets flash, and sabres glance--How the horses snort and prance!Cannon drawn up in a lineGlitter in the dizzy shineOf the morning sunlight. FlagsRipple colours in great jags.Red blows out, then blue, then green,Then all three--a weaving sheenOf prismed patriotism. MarchTommy's soldiers, stiff and starch,Boldly stepping to the rattleOf the drums, they go to battle.Crack! Rattle! The sparks fly up the chimney.

Tommy's army's off to war--Not a soldier knows what for.But he knows about his rifle,How to shoot it, and a trifleOf the proper thing to doWhen it's he who is shot through.Like a cleverly trained flea,He can follow instantlyOrders, and some quick commandsReally make severe demandsOn a mind that's none too rapid,Leaden brains tend to the vapid.But how beautifully dressedIs this army! How impressedTommy is when at his heelAll his baggage wagons wheelAbout the patterned carpet, andMoving up his heavy gunsHe sees them glow with diamond sunsFlashing all along each barrel.And the gold and blue apparelOf his gunners is a joy.Tommy is a lucky boy.Boom! Boom! Ta-ra!

Tommy's leaden soldiers we,Glittering with efficiency.Not a button's out of place,Tons and tons of golden laceWind about our officers.Every manly bosom stirsAt the thought of killing--killing!Tommy's dearest wish fulfilling.We are gaudy, savage, strong,And our loins so ripe we longFirst to kill, then procreate,Doubling so the laws of Fate.On their women we have swornTo graft our sons. And overborneThey'll rear us younger soldiers, soShall our race endure and grow,Waxing greater in the wombsBorrowed of them, while damp tombsRot their men. O Glorious War!Goad us with your points, Great Star!

The china mandarin on the bookcase nods slowly, forward andback--forward and back--and the red rose writhes and wriggles,thrusting its flaming petals under and over one another like torturedsnakes.