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The Piper Held His Head High ©

Robbie Kennedy Bennett
Wolverhampton, England

Armed with only his bagpipes
He played out a battle cry,
Around him were bayonets at ready
The piper held his head high.

Onward they walked into gunfire smoke
It was thick as a winter's fog,
Forward they pressed to the piper's tune
Into the deathly smog.

They showed no fear as the piper played
They cut with the thrust of a soldier's blade,
Friend or foe in this living hell
This bloody field they fought or fell.

Alas the piper was shot in the arm
He still played on he showed no alarm,
A second and third then brought him to ground
The pipes did squeal with an exhaling sound.

Gone was the battle cry,
As the piper tried not to die.

When a piper is hit and does gallantly fall
A comrade will answer his regiment's call,
They fight to the tune of the bagpipe sound
But the piper was shot to the ground.

Then came the breath in the pipes again
Stepping over the dead or lying in pain,
Into the gunfire and smoke
They cough up blood they spit and they choke.

As another played out the battle cry,
The piper held his head high.

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