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I have not slept,
For fear of every morrow,
The Pain, the killing, I have seen,
Those dreaded fields of sorrow

It seems, that every hope has gone,
When in men’s eyes I see,
A hollowness, once fuelled with power
With thoughts of gallantry.

But oh, how cold, the truth has dawned,
On lads who flocked and followed,
Dragged down by the mud,
And flowing blood,
Of life, so shortly borrowed.

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