The battle of blood brook

Far along the river bank
The battle lines arrayed.
Never a paw was out of place,
And never a whisker strayed.

Fifty strong was the line of voles
To only a dozen of shrew.
Face to face with bright teeth bared,
The many and the few.

'Tomorrow', Julius called across.
'Tomorrow', Coln agreed.
And the sun sank on the river bank,
And still was the shiver weed.

Deep were the ears of barley wine,
And loud the songs of the vole.
'Til deep they slept while the shrews crept
And across the brook they stole.

Long were the tails of the shrew that night,
And long were the knives in the dark.
As blood flowed thick on the riverbank
And red was the watermark.

Morning rose as the river flows
Slow and pale and cold,
Over fathers who would never awake
And sons who would never grow old.