One more battle was fought today,
And once again history was made;
Great deeds great Heroes performed,
Feats whose tales would never fade.
Feats of bravery, acts of sacrifice,
All done to honour the throne;
Deeds now etched in song forever,
As the army marched back home.
Against all odds they had fought,
Adverse was their final stand;
And victory had been theirs at last,
Won with many a bloody hands.
Yet it was a bitter-sweet victory,
And very dearly had the victors paid;
Many a Hero had been martyred,
Fighting to keep of the foreign raid.
It was a day for martyrs and heroes,
A day to be immortalised in song;
And yet it was also a forgetful day,
Forgetting those who'd fought along.
For that's the truth of the battlefield,
Heroes don't march to war alone;
Its the legions, the unsung heroes,
On whose backs the war is won.
They too wield their shield and sword,
Into the battle they march with the spear;
They are common men like you and me,
Who have stood up to face their fear.
Fear of death, fear for their family,
A fear that they would lose it all;
Yet they fight for duty, for honour,
They'd not let their motherland fall.
When the dogs of war are unleashed,
They stand unflinching; proud and tall;
Then swords clash and shield splinter,
And in the ruins, nameless do they fall.
And those who live to see the victory,
Whom Lady Luck had spared alive;
Now trod back home with the Heroes,
Bruised and battered from the strife.
They return in triumph to the city streets,
Heroes showered with gifts, big and small;
Few are the tears for those that fell,
The nameless, who don't return at all.
Those that did return now make for home,
Where their wives waited so long in fear;
Who now tend the battered frames,
And wash the wounds with their tears.
No one heeds their mighty effort,
No one cares to soothe their pain;
But once more when threat arrives,
The Unsung Heroes will stand again.
And once again history was made;
Great deeds great Heroes performed,
Feats whose tales would never fade.
Feats of bravery, acts of sacrifice,
All done to honour the throne;
Deeds now etched in song forever,
As the army marched back home.
Against all odds they had fought,
Adverse was their final stand;
And victory had been theirs at last,
Won with many a bloody hands.
Yet it was a bitter-sweet victory,
And very dearly had the victors paid;
Many a Hero had been martyred,
Fighting to keep of the foreign raid.
It was a day for martyrs and heroes,
A day to be immortalised in song;
And yet it was also a forgetful day,
Forgetting those who'd fought along.
For that's the truth of the battlefield,
Heroes don't march to war alone;
Its the legions, the unsung heroes,
On whose backs the war is won.
They too wield their shield and sword,
Into the battle they march with the spear;
They are common men like you and me,
Who have stood up to face their fear.
Fear of death, fear for their family,
A fear that they would lose it all;
Yet they fight for duty, for honour,
They'd not let their motherland fall.
When the dogs of war are unleashed,
They stand unflinching; proud and tall;
Then swords clash and shield splinter,
And in the ruins, nameless do they fall.
And those who live to see the victory,
Whom Lady Luck had spared alive;
Now trod back home with the Heroes,
Bruised and battered from the strife.
They return in triumph to the city streets,
Heroes showered with gifts, big and small;
Few are the tears for those that fell,
The nameless, who don't return at all.
Those that did return now make for home,
Where their wives waited so long in fear;
Who now tend the battered frames,
And wash the wounds with their tears.
No one heeds their mighty effort,
No one cares to soothe their pain;
But once more when threat arrives,
The Unsung Heroes will stand again.
