SONG OF WAR

Sing me once more

the old songs of war

that we marched too –

ran to, sang to…

with rifles slung, and joyous

along the lanes and byways

that summer we enlisted,

when we joined our chosen Corps…

Before the bloody war.

Sing to me once again

with the innocence of callow youth

fresh faced young warriors

who know not…

the sound of battle,

the screams of the wounded and dying,

the smell of stale sweat and blood

or the enveloping stench of death.

Sing to me Comrades. Sing!

Sing softly to me Comrades

of gardens of stone

in the foreign places

with names of those gallantly fallen…

far from home and hearth,

far from love, family

and the familiar fields of home…

in endless gardens of stone.

Not forgotten but forever immortal

in granite, in marble and bronze.

Their song is in granite and bronze.

©Copyright May 2005 by Mike Subritzky