Marching Marching All Fall Down

Here we go a marching, marching, marching,

Every step a straight line, heel and toe,

Pressing with precision ever forward

To a destination no one knows.

 

Pacing the parade grounds, hut – two – three – four,

Passing the review stand,

All eyes right.

Tiny beads of sweat on eyebrows forming,

Keeping the formation ever-tight.

 

Bugles blare and drums drum,

Trombone, cymbals,

Clarinet and tuba keeping pace.

Every note a sweet song stringing memories,

Sugaring a smile on every face.

 

Now the march is over,

Silence steps in,

No one in the anywhere makes a sound.

Out of breath and spent with satisfaction,

Marching, marching,

All fall down.

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