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Poem

Rifles of the Rear Guard,
Rattling through the rain,
Falling back and falling back
To make a stand again –
Rifles of the Rear Guard,
Shall you die in vain?

Rifles of the Rear Guard.
In the cold and wet;
Rifles of the Rear Guard,
We’re coming – do not fret!
The rifles of the Rear Guard
Shall be the Vanguard yet.

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