Large monolithic she stands facing away

The cave in smoke dirt floor unkempt

He is lithe and sinewed gnarled and grey

They speak in stilted phrases contempt

The drunkard smiles a soused fools grin

At the table eyes dark and dead porcine

The wine bowl fills from the wet goat skin

It snows he touts triumphant a sign

The lithe one speaks you fool you drunk

Have you no dignity no guts

She without a motion says he’s dead

His courage failed he simply gluts

The train his zenith now long past

The bridge his nightmare drenched in fear

Ingles commands not this flabbergast 

She draws herself against her tears

Anselmo thinks of those he’s killed

He seeks release for his serious sins

Pablo's fear is defeat distilled

Ingles will lead the Republic wins