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.