Marching troops on top and below. The youngest fall out, while the sick get crowns of gold. The wisest of us get removed, imposters fill in our ranks when our comrades fall out, but even in death you can identify us.

I restrain a king, confirm the truth; am a symbol on the clothes of youth. A bank can draft me, cash me too; a single word describes what I do.

I’m worth five, but not a hand, Silver in shine, small in band, Guess my name, from metal land.

I may seen powerless on my own Our strength lies in biting our own work together we lift the world

Silent sentinel, standing still, Marking moments by measured will. Circles sweep yet footsteps none, Faithful ’til the day is done.