O Harken
O Harken, my fellow friends, and comrades, upon the fields of time. The trumpet calls thee, the beat of the mighty drum. O Harkin, the swords of my ancestors, bones of the mighty that all have fallen. O Harken to the voice, for the battle rages on upon the fields on high. Raise thy flag. For victory, rise your flag to follow thee. For we march as one with sword or powder. For country, for freedom, we harken off and on the fields of time.
O Harken our Mothers, cry not for your husbands nor your boys, for duty calls them as the trumpet blows. Mothers, fathers, sisters, and brothers. It is for thee, the drumbeats for. Their sword is swift, with Crimson Fire wielded by their hands. With muskets and balls of fire, they shall salute thee upon the lands. For it is not a battle of man they go to battle for, but of the hearts, souls, and the love of freedom and country for all. For they bring back with them the soul of victory, for others may not have to go to war.
O Harken comrades young and old, the voice of us all. That mighty trumpet of time it has called. For it has or will never be forgotten as the flags of its glory reach home. O Harkin, old bones of our ancestors foretold, our hearts of Crimson Fire touch thee and burn brightly upon our minds and our very souls.
O Harken to the trumpet, my friends, as we are called home. For we raise thy flags and shoulder thy muskets with dignity as we wait for the trumpet to be called and the final drumbeat as it echoes from the fields of time as we march one last time one and all.
Written by
Eric J. Shepherd