Another night fought against the elements and the reds,
This blue
was tired of waiting.
He craved to see a friendly head,
But all
he saw were the hating.
A lonely perch above the treeline,
His placement was better, he had
the view.
His sights were set to plug the feline,
Mainly anyone
with a crimson hue.
A shot rang out,
the comet came near,
But all it did was singe
his ear.
That bastard would pay,
He came into the crosshair.
Now
retreating the fray,
He tries to elude and forbear.
The barrel was clean,
The bore had been tested.
The shooter
was lean,
And had been well rested.
The casing was struck,
The bullet ignited.
There was no need
for luck,
The target had been well sighted.
The scarlet looked back,
Right under a tree.
With a brain he
now lack,
And his eyes number three.
A cheer rises up,
Amidst all the booming.
A scout is
returning,
With flag he is zooming.