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Rated: E · Poetry · History · #804403
fabled speach from General Picket
The stretch was a considerable distance;
the heat, oppressive,
and my men, weary from two days of battle.
But we made the charge.

From where we were set up,
the clump of trees,
our target
was but a faint speck in the distance.
But still yet, we made the charge.

I called the charge and we set out;
slow paced for the first several hundred yards,
then we picked up speed and steeled our nerves
as we continued our charge.

We were no where near our target
when the first of my men started to die.
In sixes and sevens they fell to the ground
never to rise again.

By the time we hit the three-fourth mark
there were too few of us
against an enemy numbering a hundred thousand men.
But, my general, we still made the charge
you have to give my boys that,
we still made the charge.
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