Let us march, steady and slow,
As ever onward, we mist go;
Singing with voices, loud and strong,
No sad hearts, in this happy throng.
Oh! how pleasant 'tis to be
Thus from care, and borrow free;
As hand in hand, we onward move,
In this, our army, whose strength is love.
Each little face is happy and bright,
Each little heart is joyous acid light;
Each little voice, loud and strong,
Echo sends back, as we move along.
Then let us march, steady and slow,
Following our leader, we fear no foe;
Guided by duty, with right on our side,
We'll come from the battle, with numbers well tried.
Marching
A Fictional Short Story by
Agnes Taylor Ketchum & Ida M. Jorgensen
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