March smart to the beat of the drums boys
March toward the sound of the guns
There's a battle yet to be fought boys
Before we can return to our homes
The dead now lie in rows boys
Cut down by the shot and the shell
But the enemy will turn and run boys
When they hear the rebel yell
Find the courage in your hearts boys
Although this day is lost
You fought and died so bravely boys
Was it really worth the cost?
So few of us are left boys
Sorely hurt, ravaged by pain
So many of us died boys
For what? For us there was no gain
Mothers, wives and sweethearts boys
In so many homes do grieve
They said we would be in for three months boys
Now so many will from here never leave

Rest In Peace boys

I don't know the word
for this restless almost breathless
feeling  in my chest -

the opposite of a bluebird
- a ******* crow, at best

a last call cawing
or is it a raven's kraa-kraa

this feeling -
like a shadow in clothes
- a fly in the eye of those

who pray for repose
of my soul.

it has been said for ages that a woman
could lead a man willingly to his demise
a song or a dance; a touch or a glance
simple gestures could dumbfound the wise
these have always just been strange stories
tall-tales or faerie-tales, even outright lies
until half a year ago. until the day that I-
became so very lost within her deep blue eyes
                              
it was just a simple look
that's all it took              
my heart missed a beat
then it shook

and in that moment, I finally did realize
how very powerful they can be; a woman's eyes