a spear to pierce the leathers
an arrow shoots right through;
now a thousand years have passed
and the sword cuts sharp and true
fix the metal to his tack
send her son who won't come back
now two hundred years have gone,
yet the war still rages on;
crack the powder through the flank
call the man two men all men to rank
siege the town,
burn it down;
end the rule and
raze the school;
save your boys and
burn their toys;
now three hundred years have raged
say, has your son yet grown of age?
stuff the boy 'neath camo tank
fare-do-well, my little Hank;
creep along the bogg-ed trenches
dream alone of bleeded wretches
mind the stench of bloated corpses
mourn your man, your men, your horses;
kip beneath a falling sky
duck! the bomb's dropping a-fly--
load it, load it, load the gun
shoot them, shoot them as they run;
line them up and tie them bound,
go on--cock one more a round;
now some fifty years have flown
a thousand hundred sons are born
a hundred thousand lands are torn
the gun is 'newed and shoots still true,
the bullet spits smoke trails 'cross the blue
long we've come from spears and swords
now they play with hell and words
heed the few in seats of power:
"send your son to man the tower!"
war is old,
"--but this one's new!"
don't you know, his life was too?
way back when;
now and then;
here and now,
take your bow--
pull the string,
sound its ring
do your part and
find the art--
Ablaze,
within the empty grave
full of sons who gave and gave.