For God, Saint George and Harry
Let cold steel ring, with thrust and parry.
The deadly artistry of mortal cuts—
Of opened heads and spilled-out guts.
The horses scream, the cannon pound
And sudden-legless men and flying, manless legs
Trace the path of bounding shot across the ground.
Allahu akhbar! Gott mit uns!
Two thousand years of slings and swords and tanks and bows and guns.
Two thousand years of "My God's right!"
"No, mine is true, so we must fight!"
Two thousand years of lauding hateful gods and persecuting people
For the crime of speaking different words beneath the steeple.
And men who'd never hurt a fly are sent to die and kill
Persuaded Deus vult: it's their bounden duty—it's God's will
And those are branded cowards, who would not kill their fellow man;
Are taunted and white-feathered by those who claim to know God's plan.
While those who crave the slaughter profess Deo vindice,
Which, if your Latin's rusty, simply means to say;
"We can drown the world in blood, and then wade, cheering, through it
And glory in our gory work—God told us we should do it."
Inspired by this post. Hat-tip, Agent Cormac.
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