This is about bronies. They communicate by stomping.
In a foreign field, he lay
Lonely soldier, unknown grave
On his dying words, he prays
"Tell the world of Paschendale"
Relive all that he's been through
Last communion of his soul
Rust your bullets with his tears
Let me tell you 'bout his years
Laying low in a blood-filled trench
Killing time 'til my very own death
On my face, I can feel the falling rain
Never see my friends again
In the smoke, in the mud and lead
Smell the fear and the feeling of dread
Soon be time to go over the wall
Rapid fire and the end of us all
Whistles, shouts and more guns fire
Lifeless bodies hang on barbed wire
Battlefield nothing but a bloody tomb
Be reunited with my dead friends soon
Many soldiers eighteen years
Drown in mud, no more tears
Surely a war no-one can win
Killing time about to begin
Home, far away
From the war, a chance to live again
Home, far away
But the war, no chance to live again
The bodies of ours and our foes
The sea of death it overflows
In no man's land, God only knows
Into jaws of death we go
Crucified as if on a cross
Allied troops, they mourn their loss
German war propaganda machine
Such before has never been seen
Swear I heard the angels cry
Pray to God no more may die
So that people know the truth
Tell the tale of Paschendale
Cruelty has a human heart
Every man does play his part
Terror of the men we kill
The human heart is hungry still
I stand my ground for the very last time
Gun is ready as I stand in line
Nervous wait for the whistle to blow
Rush of blood and over we go
Blood is falling like the rain
Its crimson cloak unveils again
The sound of guns can't hide their shame
And so we die in Paschendale
Dodging shrapnel and barbed wire
Running straight at the cannon fire
Running blind as I hold my breath
Say a prayer, symphony of death
As we charge the enemy lines
A burst of fire and we go down
I choke a cry but no-one hears
Feel the blood go down my throat
Home, far away
From the war, a chance to live again
Home, far away
But the war, no chance to live again
Home, far away
From the war, a chance to live again
Home, far away
But the war, no chance to live again
See my spirit on the wind
Across the lines, beyond the hill
Friend and foe will meet again
Those who died at Paschendale
Lonely soldier, unknown grave
On his dying words, he prays
"Tell the world of Paschendale"
Relive all that he's been through
Last communion of his soul
Rust your bullets with his tears
Let me tell you 'bout his years
Laying low in a blood-filled trench
Killing time 'til my very own death
On my face, I can feel the falling rain
Never see my friends again
In the smoke, in the mud and lead
Smell the fear and the feeling of dread
Soon be time to go over the wall
Rapid fire and the end of us all
Whistles, shouts and more guns fire
Lifeless bodies hang on barbed wire
Battlefield nothing but a bloody tomb
Be reunited with my dead friends soon
Many soldiers eighteen years
Drown in mud, no more tears
Surely a war no-one can win
Killing time about to begin
Home, far away
From the war, a chance to live again
Home, far away
But the war, no chance to live again
The bodies of ours and our foes
The sea of death it overflows
In no man's land, God only knows
Into jaws of death we go
Crucified as if on a cross
Allied troops, they mourn their loss
German war propaganda machine
Such before has never been seen
Swear I heard the angels cry
Pray to God no more may die
So that people know the truth
Tell the tale of Paschendale
Cruelty has a human heart
Every man does play his part
Terror of the men we kill
The human heart is hungry still
I stand my ground for the very last time
Gun is ready as I stand in line
Nervous wait for the whistle to blow
Rush of blood and over we go
Blood is falling like the rain
Its crimson cloak unveils again
The sound of guns can't hide their shame
And so we die in Paschendale
Dodging shrapnel and barbed wire
Running straight at the cannon fire
Running blind as I hold my breath
Say a prayer, symphony of death
As we charge the enemy lines
A burst of fire and we go down
I choke a cry but no-one hears
Feel the blood go down my throat
Home, far away
From the war, a chance to live again
Home, far away
But the war, no chance to live again
Home, far away
From the war, a chance to live again
Home, far away
But the war, no chance to live again
See my spirit on the wind
Across the lines, beyond the hill
Friend and foe will meet again
Those who died at Paschendale
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One of my favorite on Dance of Dead, written by Adrian Smith.
About a horrific WWI battle also known as "The Third Battle of Ypres" on October 12-26 1917. In this battle, there were many casualties - the Germans lost approximately 250,000 men, while the British forces lost about 300,000, including 36,500 Australians; 90,000 British and Australian bodies were never identified, and 42,000 were never recovered.
actually the Canadian Corps fought off the Germans for the most part, not so much the British
The Canadian Corps were brought in for the push at the end when the Brits and Aussies were exhausted, and actually captured the village of Paschendale, with approximately 16,000 casualties. The land was unusually low even by WW I standards, and the artillery fire destroyed the drainage systems, so the mud was deep enough to bog down and drown horses in some cases. People could walk only on duckboards.<br /> <br /> The goal of reaching the seacoast was never achieved, and the ground was recaptured by the Germans during their 1918 spring offensive, so all was for naught.<br /> <br /> One of my children's great grandfathers served in that battle. A distance cousin survived this battle, only to be killed in Yres shortly thereafter.<br /> <br /> This was after Vimy Ridge, and prior to Amiens and the 100 Days battles.