I’m a gunner,
The standard demands my service,
A red banner expects the same crimson in payment,
Ram and sponge and shot,
Me and my crew,
We are demons this day,
Preparing the very mouth of hell,
A grand battery of the kings fire,

The thunder at our command,
Iron swelling with brimstone,
Those before us see it as judgement,
What once was a rural spectacle before us,
Is now a depiction of Gehenna,
I care not,
So long as the pieces keep singing,
And those roses sprout on the horizon.

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