There he stands, on the battle line;
he is always at the front line.
In the battle he endeavors, Fights with valor, to win the favor, of
his supervisor.
I
love the soldier, yes I do, and I love the soldier.
Left and right, front and back, up and
down, other soldiers fall,
They lay inert beside him, in the
battle.
They fight a losing battle, but not
him, He fights, and lives.
He lives to tell the story, the story
of the intense combat.
I love to sit and
listen, hear him tell stories, scenes of the theater of war.
His stories I find stimulating,
motivating, exciting, provoking.
He has won every battle, every except
one.
Obstinately he fought, determinedly
wrestling,
He lost it, capitulated to this
master, the heart.
I love the soldier, yes I do, and I
love the soldier,
He lost the one battle I knew he
would, he fell in love,
In love with the lady that is me.
I love the soldier, so much, coz he is
my soldier.
Befado
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