|Led by One
Into the village they rode,
forty strong, led by one.
Men, tired and gaunt, living on the run,
Soldiers--not believing the war to be done.
They plundered, took what they could,
these forty men strong, led by the one.
"Give us your gold," the Colonel shouted out,
"or else in seven days, you'll all be overrun."
"What we gonna do?" one says to another,
"No warriors, aged, not even one gun."
"We must get help," came the answer,
"to fight these men, led by the one."
So into the white man's village they strode,
where chaos erupted, an innocent to be hung.
They waited and watched, their eyes to behold,
two Warriors stepped in, and rescued the one.
"We want to hire you," the words spoke by the chief,
"to protect, to save us, before the seventh sun."
"How many are there?" asked the man dressed in black.
"Twenty soldiers strong, led by one."
An agreement was made, the payment in gold,
the three became four, before the day was done.
Next came five, then number six,
six men to fight the soldiers who were led by the one.
A Gambler, a Rogue, a Healer, a Tracker, an Ex-Preacher,
joined with a Gunman, who was second to none.
Six Warriors would ride to the village at morn,
to take on those soldiers that were led by the one.
So into the village the six Warriors rode,
each knowing exactly what needed to be done.
There were hostile looks and minds filled with doubt,
that six men could beat the soldiers that were led by one.
A seventh soon joined, he made his way in,
young, impetuous, undaunted, ready for fun.
Not knowing any better, he learned soon enough,
to fear the soldiers who were led by the one.
No gold was given when the "Ghosts" showed up,
a gun battle was raged, it seemed the good had won.
The villagers and the Warriors all celebrated that night,
their victory, hard fought, over the soldiers led by the one.
When came the dawn, a new battle was waged,
a cannon this time, the village came undone.
"No mercy!" came the battle cry,
from the ghostly soldiers that were led by the one.
A capture, a killing, not part of the plan,
an execution to happen, the battle would be done.
"We'll raise our flag in Victory," boasted the soldiers,
those Ghosts of the Confederacy, led by the one.
The tables got turned, it's hard to explain,
the soldiers lost all, through the death of the one.
No more would there be chaos or killing,
for the village now had the cannon, the Big Gun.
The men and women, black, white and red,
together had planned and got the job done.
The power of Seven had made show its force,
Warriors they were, now led by the one.