On checkered battlefields they stand.
Stood side-to-side and hand-in-hand.
A line of white across the land
The pawns of war march on.

The eight of them go forth not back
To protect their king from the foe's attack.
Disciplined, lest they should fall slack.
The pawns of war march on.

The lines collide as war unfolds.
They fall like flies, their loss untold.
Their comrades charge, so brave and bold.
The pawns do not march on.

The king, in glory, wins the day.
The knights cheer on and bishops pray.
The rooks are silent, they do not say
The pawns did not march on.

The pawns of war did not live on
To hear their names cried out in song.
They are forgotten before long
For they did not march on.