A solid sea of scarlet surrounds the battlefield,
Filling the area with belligerent noise.
A lone figure, dressed in a scarlet vest,
Emerges from a corner of the battleground.
Following in the wake of the man,
The soldiers emanate.
Not men, but boys,
Each clad in scarlet,
And equipped with silver helmets.
The boys in scarlet blaze onto the combat-zone,
Suddenly the already vociferous tumult,
Erupts like a volcano,
Spewing hot, scarlet lava.
The scarlet crowds are on their feet in anticipation.
They’re out for blood.
The battle has come to the Horseshoe.

The boys in scarlet and the opponents in blue,
Clash heads on the war front.
The front lines are a mess,
Boys battle ferociously in the trenches.
300 lbs versus 300 lbs,
First one to draw the scarlet fluid wins.
The backlines don’t fare any better.
Blitzkriegs and bullets fly.
First one to draw the scarlet fluid wins.

Time is running out,
And the scarlet fluid has yet to fall from either side.
The boys in scarlet have the edge,
But have yet to break the backs of their opponents.
One of the boys in scarlet has seen enough.
He wants the victory.
The scarlet gunslinger begins raining down bullets,
And leading his side deep into enemy territory.
With his men tiring out, the gunslinger tries one more battle tactic.
He fires a bomb straight into the heart of the enemies’ fortifications,
And one of his own men is finally able to break through.
The scarlet seas flood the battlefield.
The battle is over.
Scarlet fluid has finally been shed.
It drips slowly but surely from the hearts of the boys in blue.
The crowd’s thirst for blood has been quenched.
The battle of Horseshoe,
Can now be called the Victory at the Horseshoe.