Four hours off, and two hours on,

the sentry paced beside the wire.

One wink of sleep, and life was gone,

that's why this man, must not tire.

Out in the darkness: something there.

A finger moved the catch to "FIRE".

His eyes were sore, so hard the stare.

To pull the trigger, was his desire.

A girl, she stood, not far away.

The sight of her relaxed his guard.

The female spoke: "you don't have to pay,

come my sweet, the ground's not hard".

The sentry thought, "what must I do?"

He fought a battle in his mind:

"the chances, they were now so few".

No trace of foe his eyes could find.

She stripped before him naked there.

His excitement then, he could not hide.

To hell with it, he'd done his share.

Upon this mare he would ride.

The knife, it slashed across his throat;

no time then, for a warning cry.

Someone searched in his bloody coat.

The girl, she smiled, and watched him die.

The camp was lost: a prize acquired.

Orders barked in a tongue they hated.

The torture began, information required.

The agony there, it was never related.

The next day, saw a foreign flag.

A bugle was blown over the remains

of a regiment's pride: now a dirty rag.

Defeat most bitter: good name it stains.

A sentry thought of love that night.

From duty, the seconds were quickly torn.

His comrades had no chance to fight.

A curse on the man: shame he was born.