Fifes and Drums/Spades Are Trumps!
SPADES ARE TRUMPS!
"Clubs are trumps!" the soldier shouts,
"By might alone we win today;
For over all the world of men
The strength of arms holds eager sway."
"Nay, SPADES are trumps!" speaks Mother Earth,
"The might you boast would soon be gone
Without the harvest that they yield
To lend you strength and feed your brawn."
"Diamonds are trumps!" the merchant cries,
"They build your navy, ship by ship;
Place guns within your soldiers' hands,
And give your fighters swords to grip."
"Nay, SPADES are trumps!" speaks Mother Earth,
My workers share the richest spoil:
Where would your boats and armies be
Without the fruitage of the soil?"
"Hearts are trumps!" the women sigh,
"We give our husbands and our sons,
To sail your ships across the seas,
To bear your flags and man your guns."
"Nay, SPADES are trumps!" speaks Mother Earth,
"The guns may roar on land and sea.
And swords may flash and hearts may break—
But SPADES shall have the victory!"