To Those Lost Sons
March on, brave soldiers,
Keep to the rhythm of the guns,
Make the ground into mud,
Make men of women’s sons.
Hold that line, do not falter,
Guard against breaches of our ranks,
Wash clean the mind of civility,
Else they’ll take us by the flanks.
Cast an eye to the clouds,
Can you see the rain come down,
Can you see past the shells and mortar rounds.
Oh, brave soldiers, our lost sons,
Many will remember that you died,
Few remember names,
Less still know why you cried.