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A Loud and Most Desperate Band

I’ve read where, in desperate battles
When all ammunition was spent,
The cannons were loaded with shrapnel,
Old horseshoes, and pegs from the tent.

Nails, rocks, and buckles flew skyward
With hope that some piece would draw blood;
When bullets were gone stones went sailing,
When those were used up they threw mud.

The opponent could judge by projectile
The strength of the army he faced.
When good shot and shells were depleted,
The end was approaching with haste.

There’s a battle today fought for values,
For virtues held long in this land;
And those who oppose proven standards
Are a loud and most desperate band.

From what I have seen from their volleys;
Their shots that have lit up the skies;
With falsehood they’re filling their cannon;
Their muskets are loaded with lies.

They misstate traditional wisdom;
They parody all that is right;
They caricature their opponent
And figure “All’s fair in a fight.”

Their strength is quite misrepresented;
When their barrage of chaff is all done;
How valid their view may be judged by
The garbage that blows from their gun.

Picture of Wes Stephenson

Wes Stephenson

Author, motorcyclist, poet, and adventurer. Let's journey together.

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