The Fallen.

Getting a bit fatalistic at the continuous cycle of war memorials / war marches / war dedications…can we not sometime leave such horror and sadness to lie in peace and start to concentrate on the present living?

The Fallen.

A soldier falls at Passchendaele,

A mother weeps at home.

In one hundred years between,

A billion come and gone.

 

But who will weep for Ginny,

Who will weep for Tom,

A woman beaten dead at home,

A black man’s lost his son.

 

A billion die in poverty ,

Millions starved or bombed…

A soldier falls at Passchendaele

And the nation’s marching on.

 

And it’s for this war or it’s that,

Never for a Billy or a Joan.

A soldier falls at Passchendaele

And still we’re marching on.

 

They’ll always have us marching,

Always fighting on.

For God, King and country,

Poncierres, Ypres or the Somme.

 

A thousand wars “worth fighting”

And not one lost nor won.

But still the soldier falls forlorn

And a mother weeps at home.

 

Tho’ we march for glory

We march and sing the song .

Marching, marching, bloody marching,

Seeking a glory so long gone.

 

But who will weep for Angeline,

Who will weep for Sam?

And for the billion lives between ;

Raped-cheated-broken-starved and beated…

 

Or shall we cry for none?

 

A soldier falls at Passchendaele,

All our mothers weep alone.

Judge instead the liars brought us here,

And pray; let our world get moving on.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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