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- I saw an army marching slowly o’er the hill
- With guns and cannons blaring enough to make one ill.
- Then they kept on coming, the valley they did fill.
- When I saw the soldiers, they were stranger still.
- Nine hundred six were el’phants with stars across their backs.
- Their ev’ry step that thundered made ev’ry boulder crack.
- Nine hundred six were eagles lined within a stack
- With blood-red painted bellies and iv’ry in their packs.
- Yet who could they be fighting on that tiny, tiny plain?
- I turned my gaze over away from all the rain.
- And right smack in the middle on an isle that seems to wane
- Was a roaring purple lion that breathed a roaring flame.
- Well, fifty-four were tortured by the fire’s flaming heat,
- And forty others suffered behind their comrade’s feet.
- The rest had been quite frightened and before they could e’en speak,
- Their commander blew the trumpet, and then he yelled, “Retreat!”
- Many years went by, and the valley thought it well,
- And ’twasn’t long ’til beavers had a population swell.
- They knew something’s awry, but couldn’t just quite tell
- When they saw the army r’turning bigger than when they fell.
- There were no guns nor cannons. They made far too much noise.
- Rather gold was now their weapon and the promise of great toys.
- The beavers gladly ’ccepted and thanked them for the joys,
- And the beavers’ big-chinned leader led them to their death.