The sound of footsteps in the dark,

the marching of a thousand hearts,

Serving to keep thier country safe,

From the dictators of the earth.

A shovel hits the frozen ground,

Breking rocks with echoing sound,

To give heat to freezing youth,

Stuck in cold winter's mound.

A house bilt with your own hands,

Something to stand times own sands,

A attestment of strengh and will,

Somewhere to claim as your lands.

A child grows,

A soul now knows,

To become king, and fight,

For what you know is right.

A careful hand tends a bed of dirt,

A spade breaks loose clumps of earth,

To plant a food to fuel your heart,

And make all of life have a new start.

-In tribute to Carl Fagerlid