They come to this place to taunt each other,
On a battlefield against friend or brother.

They stand and they face each other to start,
Twenty two men with no fear in their hearts.

From start to finish this is a race,
All of them wearing the same game face.

Like a game of chess, their strategy is planned,
To conquer the enemy whom invades their land.

They charge down the field, like soldiers they run,
Let nothing stop them from getting the job done.

They make their way through mud and rain,
To the other side they fight through the pain.

Now the sound of people as they yell,
Down on that field must be some kind of hell.

In the end when It’s all done,
These warriors of the field, so much they have won.

Keith Garrett


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