By Rob S. Rice
In these dull dreary days the truly brave man knows
That steel, true steel, is tempered by blows.
Fools sneer and deride, let them cheer for our foes
So much harder steel that they temper with blows.
Honor is eternal, though fools disregard
The tests they despise, or consider ‘too hard.’
Or in scheming for power they chatter, like crows,
But steel, true steel, is still tempered by blows.
We face scheming murderers with calm defiance.
They have soulless evil, we have self-reliance.
They butcher civilians, their cruelty shows.
Our steel, true steel, is tempered by blows.
Let them come and dare face us, or run, if they choose.
In battle or treachery, the wicked shall lose.
For the acts of their madness are in truth their death throes.
They’ll die on our steel that they’ve tempered, with blows.