Thursday, December 31, 2009

Don't Go

Men killing and being killed
far from home
far from their mothers' loving arms
to be buried in lonely stony graves
swept by harsh winds that bring from afar
the tears from a mother's eyes
the cries from a mother's heart
cast into the open skies
sharper than an enemy dart

killed for a king, for country, for a half-mad dream
of wealth, of fame, of glorious name
killed as so many boys are killed
far from the hopes with which they came
hopes and hearts forever stilled

what use is it to say Don't go
young men always think they know
more than a hundred generations teach
more than the blood of ages can reach
more than a million mothers' tears beseech
Don't go, Don't go, Don't go.

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