Beneath my feet,
An army of stench,
Invisible, it would seem so,
Tucked away, hidden from prying eyes.

Backup defenses unsheathes their swords,
Halting the further advancement of the enemy,
Toughened by the blood of those too weak to fight on,
A war cry, hollered by some unseen power.

Into the battle!
The woosh of swords echoes in the hollow,
Warriors unknown, scurry down the trees,
Through the mass of dead bodies, and push onwards,

The enemy advances, with shouts of valor,
But the squelsh squelsh and the slowly sinking bodies are seen,
In the water, of which seemed merely an inch deep,
Teeming with endless amounts of sunken bodies.

Worms, vigorously feast beneath the surface and wait for their next meal,
The few soldiers remaining however,
Break into full speed locomotion,
In an attempt to live to see another day.

The enemy would not be permitted to escape,
Burly Birch brings down his brown mitts upon the soldiers,
Inevitably cracking their skulls,
Then none remained.

But how you ask, how,
Is it that I know of this tale?
There is little old me,
Watching from the Willow Tree,

Invisible, little me,
There in the Willow tree,
Wee, I was when I discovered,
The Bog in the Woods.