A steady gloom descends upon their haloes

And the wind smells rusty

A hideous face peeks out from behind the vale

And a shadow forms on the little faces.


All hearts beat in military fashion

All aching to burst out of weak cages

Eyes trying to hold back the dam of tears

Threatening to rush out.


With hairs standing up straight

And erect nipples poking through thin vestments

The little ones practise their war faces

Ready to take out the Big Guy.


Spears carved from dear wood

Working on tirelessly until the twilight hours, and then some

There’s a chill in the rusty air

It’s going to be an epic, magnificent night, to do down in history.


The marching call has been sounded

War cries everybody is chanting in impassioned voices

And they rush off in a delusional state

It’s time to fight the Big Guy.