Winter At Valley Forge

We sit ‘round the fire,

Our frozen hands,

Begging for warmth.

Frostbitten toes,

Icicle nose,

Our empty bellies,

With that sharp pang of hunger.

Men are eating trees,

Just wanting their fill,

Not really tasting,

That hard, crunchy bark.

No one has shoes,

Blood covers the snow,

Soldiers laying frozen,

On the unforgiving ground.

Dead bodies are thrown

Every which way,

“No time for burying,

we must be on our way”

the general says,

not caring one bit.

Typhoid and smallpox,

Are going around,

And everyone stares,

At the sick, dying men.

Daily we are told,

“No money for supplies,

Be a man and get up,

Fight for our freedom,

Our liberty and rights.”

And one day we’re told,

We will finally be trained,

Like the army we are,

Not just poor colony men.

Day by day,

We’re drilled harder and harder,

“We can finally beat those Tories!

Another battle can be won!”

Washington says, a smile on his face.

When springtime comes,

We’re a mean fighting machine,

And I have survived,

the Winter at Valley Forge.

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