See the arrow for it quickness
See the sword for it nimbleness
See the shield for it hardness.
But not see the reason for this all
For who of us can say
The cause of the beating of the silver
And the march of men
And the blood that rest shed
For the green of our grass
For the gold of our walls
For the blue of our water
For the smile of our childrens
But what of this will last?
Of the bravery of men
Will they finally say?
Or curse our names
For the last day?
