Down the hill they run
All muscle and sinew
Yet with enough remaining girlishness
To hesitate the Frenchmen
A slack-mouthed flag-bearer
Unable to take his eyes off the women
Their bare breasts swinging
Dappled with blood
While the other men load their rifles
The flag-bearer still stares
Mindlessly inching his horse closer
Despite calls from his comrades
When he looks back at them
He suddenly sees
His nation's flag fall to the dirt
Unaware that he has been
Cleaved in two
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