by Judy (Wishes)
jkp@bright.net
Oh, still the warrior spirit That beats within my breast, That pounds in time with the drummer, That marches before the rest. I want to love the peacetime, To consider no man my foe. I long for a tranquil spirit That trades a kiss for a blow. Sometimes I sit by the fireside At some rustic village inn And listen to tales of love And good will to all good men. But then I hear the shofar Or hark to the bugle's sound And again leap astride my warhorse And ride toward the battleground. Judy (Wishes)