A furlong, a furlong, a full furlong onward,
All into the field of sugarbeet
Marched the six hundred.
“Forward the legion, feast upon the sugar’d root”!
“Bring back sweet sap” said the hive:
Into the field of beet,
Marched the six hundred!
“Forward the legion!”
Was there an ant dismayed?
Not tho’ to an ant they knew
Someone had blunder’d:
Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to do & die:
Into the field of beet
Marched the six hundred!
Lizards to the right of them,
Sparrows diving from the sky,
Webs laid out ahead!
Tongue snatch’d & web tangled;
Dived at with beak and claw,
Boldly they marched and well,
Into the maws of death
Over the field so treach’rous
Marched the six hundred!
Flash’d all their mandibles wide,
Flash’d as they marched so proud,
Marching over open ground,
for the nest that hunger’d:
Plunged into the webs so fine
Right through the cobs they broke;
Soil turned and rind pierced
By the mandibles so sharp!
Shattr’d and sunder’d
Then they marched they back, but not
Not the six hundred.
Lizards to the right of them,
Sparrows diving from the sky,
Laden webs strung out behind
Tongue snatch’d & web tangled;
Dived at with beak and claw,
While worker and soldier fell,
They that had marched so well
Came thro’ the maw of death
Back from the field of beet,
All that was left of them,
Left of the six hundred.
How can such glory ever fade?
O the wild march they made!
For the nest that hungr’d.
Honor the march they made,
Honor the legion,
Noble six hundred.
The Parodies of Fadaray Nichibach; The lie that is honour and the folly of war