A million mushrooms fill the field
Where marchers' bodies lately fell
For marchers marching, heavy heeled
Release more spores to march as well

Across the twi-lit shadow ground
And over long-bewildered farms
Through palaces, where not a sound is heard
Though there should be alarms

But winter comes and only ice
Is crushed beneath the marching feet
In all the land where once was rice
There now is nothing fit to eat

...Except mushrooms!
Which nourish not the body
Nourish not the mind
And often poison, eating rot
The marchers march insane and blind

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