Over the top lads, for old Blighty! Hold the colours high!
Say a little prayer for me, for this summer day we die.
My brothers from the ripened field and blackened mill, shop floor,
Your brother in a killing field to fight a rich man’s war.
In bloodied mud and shattered wood, fight legions of the brave,
Unwitting youth, you’ll do your duty until you’re in the grave.
A sergeant greets a fresh-faced boy, “welcome to the slaughter!”
Here you die from three diseases, bullet, gas or mortar.
In arms we fight together and in leaden hails we pass,
We die amongst the filth and stench that once was verdant grass.
“In the morning we will remember them” we hear the leaders call,
Those fickle words of history, will not remember us all.
Marquees bright, and neon lights, where crowds line up for movie night
We're holding hands, we're in 'The Strand', red velvet carpets guide us in
Popcorn smokes, .. drinking cokes,... cracking jokes with Bing and Hope
Lamour's along, in her sarong,... With luscious lips, and cigarettes,
She fills ashtrays with smoking tips, and tosses guys like poker chips
'Movietone' intrudes with news, which puts us in somber mood
Third-Reich goosesteps march again, ... an evil presence in the wind...
Cary Grant , (a news reporter), loves his girl, and his typewriter
"His Girl Friday", plot is witty, sometimes crazy. But Cary loves this ditzy lady....
William Powell and Mryna Loy..., Asta barks, and finds a toy, ...a ploy? a clue?,....
...an earring gold. The mystery is clearly solved.-- A crimson sun, is rising cold!
Movietone in black and white,... graphic scenes, where soldiers die
Another night, suspense on chart. 'Correspondent' , Joel McCrea.
Saves Lorraine, and claims the Day. BUY WAR BONDs !! They'll pave the way
Bogart, Bergman bring to light, a valiant flght , within their grasp
Airline ticket, in her hand, they must part, and do what's right, no questions asked
It's movie night, but you aren't here, a troopship took you far from here
Allied troops are moving tanks. I wait for you..God give me strength
I'm in the Strand, within the dark, there's no one here to hold my hand
I'm all alone...........I heard the news....................You left it all in Anzio
For Contest Chopped III Sponsored by Craig Cornish
They slipped their chains and spread their brains
On walls of bricks and mortar,
Bared their teeth in their belief,
Prepared themselves for slaughter.
Howled aloud in the smoke and cloud
That prowled the streets and alleys,
The sounds they made in their parade
Echoed down the valleys.
They shed their blood in crimson flood,
It stained the roads and gutters,
And people hid and crossed themselves
Behind their doors and shutters.
The gunfire cracked and bodies stacked
As one fell on the other,
When it was done and lived there none,
Each sister mourned each brother.
The sun it rose, diseased and froze
Out on a wracked horizon,
The jackboot bastards drank their fill
And cried out: “What’s our poison!”
Black as soot on a winter night,
Thin with eyes red to the core,
The tourists armed with skulls and guns
Beheld the Dogs of Warsaw.
Torn like rags in a threshing mill,
Shapeless sprawl on a killing floor
Yet history will not forget
The butchered Dogs of Warsaw.
It afflicts king and queen alike.
Brought to the castle
by the master of infildelity.
He moves smoothly from one to the other.
He swiftly takes them
as is his right, he believes.
Only to have his fill
from the fair maiden
to the sullied trollop.
He sees them all equally
in his adventures.
He spreads his curse
from one to the other.
It robs it's victims
of their eyes and senses.
Over the years, it slowly degrades
their intelligence and lives.
It can bring down the greatest Empires
if given enough time.
The pro-Hanoi Vietcong many years ago
In the 1950's Diem's government they'd overthrow
All opposition was crushed killed or jailed
These elected ones to their people they failed
This Buddhist country so religious in belief
Now politically torn apart, impending future grief
In the early 1960's with the CIA in place
Discussing with Vietnam's generals, Diem, assassinated in disgrace
With the Vietcong army, growing from strength to strength
Another communist foothold, going to any lengths
In 1965, with 3500 U.S. Marines in place
By December of that year, 200,000 in many a base
These U.S. Marines, in their defensive mode
Over the coming months, peace would soon erode
With the Tet Offensive upon us, and the "Battle of Hue"
The Americans were now involved, this bloody war now brews
One decision to end this conflict, came in 1969
Nixon sent 18 B-52s, bordering Soviet airspace line
He wanted to show he was capable, to end this bloody war
But as the months and years progressed, the body count would soar
The anti-war movement was gathering strength, also in 1969
But the "Green Beret Affair" started to undermine
A U.S. Army platoon raped and pillaged, the village of My Lai
Where civilians were massacred, and many left to die
In 1970-71, Cambodia incurred wars wrath
Where they and the country Laos, were in the U.S. bombing path
Also in 71, there was the cutting of the Ho Chi Minh trail
But arms and supplies got through, this mission to no avail
Later in the same year, the Anzac's withdrew their soldiers
The U.S. also reduced, many of theirs from Vietnam's borders
In 1973, Nixon declared the suspension of offensive action
The Paris Peace Accords took place, peace with this warring faction
Between the years 73 - 74 under Trà, the Vietcong grew in strength
There was no mass offensive, to lure the Americans to their trench
Gradually they marched to their target, to see their enemies eyes
To their city of Saigon, now over a million humans have died
The average age of the American to die in this bloody war
Was just nineteen years old, never knowing what they were fighting for
So many came home from this horror, leaving themselves behind
Because so many came home different, home with a different mind
Even to this day, many Americans look back and ask
Why their elected Congress, feed them to these tasks
The sad thing about Vietnam, it continues to this present day
Where governments make decisions, asking guns to hear their say
The greatest holiday gift I ever received
Goes back so many, many years
Before my life became turmoiled
And before my tears for fears
I was a child like many out there
Torn, strewn and split of kin
Mother and father in differences
Confused at seven, wearing their same skin
For I was one of the lucky ones
To a Highland Estate I would go
It's on the west coast of Scotland
Where my holidays desired me so
Secretly I internally smiled
For a whisper of where I was heading
To live with a movie star hero
No longer my life was in dreading
We were picked up by a man so fine
His manners were an absolute joy
Regimental he was in his approach
To me, just a seven year old boy
We travelled through the village of Plockton
Crystal clear waters edged to it's shore
I knew from this very moment
Being here ebbed previous family sores
On entering his house I was in awe
Movie pictures came to my view
They were images of James Bond
At seven I was totally through
A voice called to me
Hey James! sit down and I'll tell you me
Still in circles in walking awe
This is what he told thee
My name is Patrick Dalzel Job
In the Second World War I served
But this recognition I bestow
Humbles me to it's deserve
This honour that's been given
Was blessed by a colleague in war
What desired Ian Fleming to be so striven
Possibly, what we were fighting for
We served on the same destroyer
Fighting to make the future free
His tribute, in his novels I became
James Bond, it's incredibly me
Not many seven year olds have stayed with James Bond.
This seven year old Scot's boy has, maybe I learnt?
Rolling through a bloody mess,
my master died alone no less.
His mercy was indeed a lie,
he said I lived but now will die.
His hand was swift with a mighty stroke,
within a thought my life was broke.
Oh how I lived, and he knew not,
but now I lay...my life to rot.
No foot, nor hand could move a limb,
Three days old and no sign of him.
And then he came at my wits end,
With strength alone I cant defend.
He lift me up and broke my jaw,
Just to laugh as I hit the floor.
He took a blade and made a fist,
stabbed his flesh, his vein, his wrist.
Now you're dead and now you're mine,
drink from me and you'll be fine.
I could not stand my masters site,
I killed him quick with my own bite.
sent to the slaughter
caught between levels of hell...
neither one he chose
he lay amidst death
destiny arrived on time
alive…it chose him
For "Senryu Movie Scene" Contest
Once again, the powers that must
In rise again in what we trust
An overseas conflict, another war
Just what in the hell are we fighting for
Families are asking, Korea has just passed
Generations again reft, how long will it last
A country in need, to rebuild again
Flags at half mast, in wind and rain strain
Once again into war, sent by the Washington Post
To send back reports to hit home the most
Military observers were the first to be sent in
Another chapter of man entering existing sin
I'm witnessing our ariel power, Lam Son 719
US planners determine their incursion, saying all will be fine
Along the Mekong River, we'll carpet bomb their supply trail
Tons of munitions and napalm, this spread surely cannot fail
Many sorties are being flown, for the wounded and the dead
Whilst Nixon and his cronies, aren't thinking with their heads
The news of losses has reached me, nineteen have been killed
Eleven missing, fifty nine wounded, more American blood spilled
Seven fixed wing aircraft, more sons in action loss
Whilst back at home more protests, fading the dyeing's gloss
To to this job that I do, I was never prepared for this
To witness such bloody scenes, and ignore that life is bliss
How can I write about a soldier, whose name I'll never know
Killed at nineteen years old, his family he'll never see grow
Or even explain to his parents, when carried from the AH-1
His body bullet riddled and limp, when lifted it bloodily run
I never went back to the theatre, called the Vietnam War
Having witnessed the wanton killing, what were we fighting for
This colonial conflict that started, us on the side of France
So many came back as strangers, many to live in trance
James Fraser's entry into the contest " WORLD OF WAR: VIETNAM "
I wail lonely
in your distances
as endless trestles travel I
I was here I was
on your horizons,
present in your town
Come, ride with me
Come, keep me
from obsolescence, keep me
I am meaningless,
For how can I see, and, yes,
Who can I show,
If not you... if not you... if not you
America, why did you stray from the old way.
A constitution put forth, the foundation of our land,
barely recognizable what was originally Jefferson's hand.
Tarnished and smudged by misinterpretation,
overindulgence and greed, to satisfy political,
judicial, and journalistic need.
Once majority rule, now bordering on ridicule,
the law of the land, ever changing, meeting demands,
of whoever takes a stand.
America, why did you stray, parents unable to discipline,
fear children undisciplined now rule, school in chaos,
students unruly, guaranteed to pass, unprepared for their future,
parents unsure, wish for the past, hope the next generation,
won't be like the last.
America, why did you stray, streets used to be a place to play,
neighbors knew one another, socialized every day,
doors left unlocked, nothing to fear, families stayed close,
helped one another, took care of mother.
Now drugs rule the day, hate and crime more common than play,
multiple locks symbolic of today, rarely talk to a stranger,
living in fear; life no longer precious, taken away,
day after day, the bloody count rises, a country in crisis,
victims pay, guilty appeal, courts give them the best deal.
Nobody protests for victims rights, put a murderer to death,
they scream all night.
America, why did you stray, hatred and bigotry alive
and well today, nationalities split, long for the old way,
when an American, was just an American, now hyphenation,
the accepted way.
America, why did you stray, once an industrial giant
you gave it away, too high a standard for industry to pay,
moved out of country, the new American way, unemployment,
poverty, homelessness rapidly increasing, ruined lives,
while billions are spent on so called allies.
America, why did you stray, what's written today,
barely address the wrongs building every day,
religion is accepted, God is not,
country divided, politically split,
presidential bashing provides journalistic wit,
hatred and bigotry, live for it.
America why did you stray, new chapters every day,
really a damn shame.
Imagine lakes of dreams
Blood contained streams
Imagine oceans that behold undiscovered beings
Imagine human life depended off of cheers and games
Man design’s umbrellas
And eventually would play a part in acid rain
Imagine not wanting to smell another rose
Or touch another soul
Because of despair and shame
Imagine in the mist of your demise
You have the passion to rejoice and sing
Imagine driving pass shattered glass
The interior is soaked with blood stains
Your mind can't comprehend the fact
that it's a dead family in the next lane
Imagine dreaming for freedom
As a result by your neck you hang
Imagine for the sake of progress
You whip a man on his back and call him a slave.
Rage, Pain, Fortune, and fame
You don't have to imagine this
Because that's what life brings.
On a slope graced with green
White marble stands in proud salute
For beneath these engraved pillars of memory
Lie the resting places of heroes
A solitary green fir looks down
As if sheltering the lost and the taken
So many names, from all walks of life
A father, brother a girlfriend or wife
On a sunny day, they glow radiant like their lives
On a dull day, they stand out against the greys
For the living, life goes on
Tomorrow is another day
Plunging, lifting, plunging -as wind blew ashes all around -
the shovels' blades incised the cold and black encrusted ground.
Attached to shovel handles were the arms of skeletons - of men,
who pausing, hacked and wheezed; then bent and smote the dirt again.
With bruised decrepit bodies - and coerced - they struggled on
beneath a sky from which the sun for them had long withdrawn.
And seeping into nostrils came that too familiar stench
when shrieking had died out, and still - they toiled at the trench.
Perhaps they dreamed of tunnels; that the cracks within the earth
inflicted by their shovels formed a path to their rebirth.
What horror in the knowing there were no more tears to cry
or that their bodies - shoeless - might, in graves they’d dug, soon lie.
For the "Your Favourite Old Poem #3" Contest of Shadow Hamilton
Written around 5/7/2010
Plagued with an unimaginable measure of beauty
She sits somewhere between the Indian and the Atlantic
Her history boasts of nothing but debauched slavery
Having served leaders who were very autocratic
She boasts of a vast expanse of unexploited vegetation
An even greater magnitude of untapped mineral resources
Yet her people reside in abject deprivation
As they look beyond their motherland to external sources
Famine, drought and diseases are her nemesis
Her leaders never seem to be sensitive to her plight
Amassing wealth for themselves and families
Ignoring the very reason for their current might
Oh Africa my motherland
Bursting with glory and heavenly blessings
May the good Lord stretch forth His hand
To bless thee with leaders worthy of your consecrations
With echoes of despair upon the day
Near the rim of the world, a storm provokes
A great noise and the past is chased away
Dispersed into shadows like shifting smoke
I feel the first sting of tears in my throat
Falling as specks, scattered puffs on the sand
Unleashed was a flood of such grief, unplanned
Looks like rain, the old girl said,
As the sky broke stars and bled,
And the clouds all turned black with the swell;
The dingy streets were dim and grey,
The shadow people drained away,
And it seemed as though the town was going to hell.
Looks like rain, the people cried,
As the shop fronts closed and died
And the best days ground abruptly to a halt;
The fairground rides fell still,
And the view from up the hill
Was of streetlights suffocating in a vault.
Looks like rain, I wryly thought,
Just before the first onslaught
Of machinery oiled and primed for tearing down;
With the clanking chains and drilling
Someone made a quick-fire killing
By ripping out the heart from this old town.
Looks like rain, you sweetest child,
I know I muttered as I smiled,
And the oil-paint textures watered in your eyes;
Our own history set to burning
As the wheels they kept on turning,
In the hallowed name of progress I surmise.
If time heals all, what heals time?
For it cannot be changed, its burned into history, burned into the fabric of time like a scratch on a track.
Time can make us feel regret that we did not use it the best we could or it can make us rejoice remembering that good moment in time.
It is a fickle thing that most will not appreciate until it’s gone.
I myself have had more pain than good, but does that count as bad time as it made my character and is the reason I have this strength and insight on life.
So I don’t believe in or good or bad moments in time, its all on how we look at it and use it going forward.
The most important thing to remember and learn from the past is that we ALL make mistakes . . but only a fool repeats them.
The problem was never your leaving me
It lied with your still being around
Too easy for us to cross pathways
Too easy for me to hear the sound
Of your voice in my daytime
And it was even worse quarter past ten
Spending the day hoping not to see you
When the truth is I never wanted it to end
No one ever said it would be easy
Complication is a an unexpected friend
How you scooped a cup of my heart
I wish it back you would lend
It seems you also hold all the keys
To the past we shared and how we lived
With such secrets I can’t see why
It’s impossible for us to even be friends
It’s good life doesn’t come with a roadmap
Many journeys have to be perplexed
There will be sunny days & stormy nights
And relationships that will surely be vexed
I wish only for those sunny days
And the lessons I learned from the storms
To grow and prosper from our yesterday
And reform this fool heart that was tore.
kashan fields ©
Around that table, picture the scene
Self appointed leaders if you know what I mean
What were the topics on the Agenda that day
The Jewish race is about to pay
Who gave the right for this decision that's made
Who has the right to cleanse and degrade
To decide who lived, to decide who dies
Another chapter, I still wonder why
They came in the day they came in the night
Women and children pulled out of sight
Herded aboard like cattle and sheep
Many a family awoke from their sleep
Dazed and confused as they are taken away
Where will they be at the end of the day
From their warm houses and their warm beds
What must be going through their heads
As they travel through days and through the night
Up ahead, they see lots of lights
They depart the trucks and board the train
Their faces scared under the strain
Asking questions from family and others
Generations, sisters and brothers
Why are we here, where are we going
Windowless carriages with no way of knowing
We come to a stop, soldiers aplenty
Towers and wire, topped with sentries
What can this place be they have taken us to
As we head to large gates as they shuffle us through
Families separated, herded in file
Women and children, not one did smile
Taken to rooms where our heads were shaved
Is this the way humans behaved
Clothes discarded, as we enter the shower
No signs of water no signs of power
Doors slammed as we are all crammed in
History will recall this evil of sins
As we stand in the dark, chanting Jewish faith
Can hear the voices can't see the face
Noises above, do the showers start
The event has begun that tells us Humans apart
Questions and sighs, as walled vents show daylight
Some thing is falling then their slammed tight
A strange aroma starts to fill the air
As all around are screams of despair
Twenty minutes have passed and the quietness is rife
Two thousand people, two thousand lives
Pellets called HCN, or Hydrogen Cyanide
Contribute to this Genocide
The year is 2025
I have come back to my past
To witness the Mayans
Who said Earth would not last
Was the year they declared
That the planet we knew
Could never be spared
An Asteroid shower
We could never comprehend
Sends this heaven to hell
In catastrophic spend
The first to hit
Was the daddy of them all
Our axis twisted
The human race in fall
Just of Madagascar
In the Indian Ocean
It's where it all started
That set our demise in motion
Like giant tower blocks
As Polynesia rocked
The force of impact
On the Canary Islands
A dormant volcano so reft
It's massive mountain side
Into the Atlantic slipped
To the eastern seaboard
Of the United States it shipped
A second Tsunami
Half the world long
Would submerge the east
Taking the weak and the strong
The second to hit
Hit a place struck before
Tunguska in Russia
Receives another sore
Daylight turns to night
As earth meets our skies
Fallout from the reactors
In shattered demise
Eventually filter down
Leaving bleeding lacerations
As we humans death drown
Some just a few hundred feet
Around the world they were marvelled
Until they meet their greet
The place where I stand now
Was Yosemite National Park
Now dark ridges of black
So bare and stark
It's been many many years
Since the sun shone through the screen
When I close my eyes I remember
When the earth was lush and green
How many of us survived
Will we ever know
Was this in our destiny
I think all around me, now shows
After the quiet we all have to go
Dragged and carted by the Sonderkommando
To be dumped in pits covered by lime
A race to dispose by it's Human slime
Auschwitz, Buchenwald & Dachau slaughtered
Many a son, many a daughter
Experiments on children women and men
Some aged 90, many under 10
In 45, their end was near, how many alive would reappear
As Russians, British and US troops
Chased the Hun to their German roots
Each camp reached showed it's sordid past
Where millions of me, were massively gassed
In Auschwitz, to this present day
Birds don't fly, no animals play
The reminder is all for there to see
Those terrible days what happened to me
It's 1948, our Nation is born
From histories past, populations torn
To all who survived I wish you well
And our new born world, called Israel
He prepares for a carefree day,
for jovial conversations,
for cheerful smiles and lively faces.
He’s a young boy. Just like me.
My mind swells with ceaseless terror.
I plead in my prayers
that our lives shall prolong further than this day.
I prepare for the grand attack.
He ambles through the village.
Laughter escapes the vivid frames
of him and his companions.
Not an ache in his limbs.
Not a burden in his heart.
I move anxiously ahead.
My feet without ease omit swarms of bodies.
Some still emit shallow breaths.
Inadequate sounds escape their mouths
and their eyes writhe.
For him, time passes swiftly
and a late train is the crisis of the day.
In that day, not a thought does he spare
for his fellow human beings.
For our sacrifice he doesn’t care.
As for me, time stays almost still.
I’m imprisoned in a time warp of pain.
My best friend clings off the un-cut wire
and blazing bullets glide through
the torn flesh of his chest.
He lies in his bed.
Wrapped around him a soft blanket,
under his head a warm pillow.
He’s a young boy. Just like me.
But only the moist earth serves me as a cushion,
and only the bodies of my lifeless friends
serve me as heat.
I lie in a shell-hole; I lie in my grave.
A best-selling song was recorded by Mark Dinning.
In a string of sad songs, this was just the beginning.
In 1960, the lyrics conveyed teary eyes.
“Teen Angel” was a big hit, and it was no surprise.
Many sad songs followed this one up the Billboard charts.
Their lyrics described death and tragedy, breaking hearts.
“Tell Laura I Love Her” was sung by Ray Peterson.
Another great song was “Last Kiss” by J. Frank Wilson.
We have to include “Big John” produced by Jimmy Dean.
Some more great tragic songs made their presence on the scene.
“Ringo” was recorded by Bonanza’s own Lorne Greene.
“Dead Man’s Curve” earned a gold record for both Jan and Dean.
The Shangri-La’s song “Leader of the Pack” joined others.
There was “Ebony Eyes” by the Everly Brothers.
Two tragic melodies delivered by Dickey Lee
were the gold recordings titled “Patches” and “Laurie”.
That was not the end, for in ‘68 came “Honey”.
This was a number one hit so many got to know.
It became the best effort by Bobby Goldsboro.
However, during this time, not all songs sounded sad.
A few melodies came around that were not that bad.
Among the tragic ballads that were a plethora
was the novel song, Allan Sherman’s “Camp Granada”.
My favorite non-tragic melody one would sing
was the late Bob Luman’s hit “Let’s Think About Living”.
I really believe everything would have been so nice
if only more people heeded Bob Luman’s advice!
O, I love my dear boy
So dearly and so blindly
I will give him my blood
And life if God permits so
He's so weak and sick
So pallid and so tender
But I know he's an umbrella of snow
In the wide-brimmed form
A rhyme, a loft
Almost in the spelling of my own world.
You always try
to break me down
you always try to knock me out
damage me with just your words
not physical but it still hurts
and all you do is make it worse.
You bruise me
Cut me with your tounge
Brutalize me, cut and binding
as my blood pours from the scars.
You bruise me
and it's really nothing more.
go on hate me
it's something you love to do
yell at me, because now i see
there's nothing left for me with
Your eyes so cold, words are old
nothing else that you can say
times running out, it's over now
and your the one who bruised
You bruised me
Cut me with your silver tounge
Brutalize me, cut and binding
As my blood pours from the scars
You bruised me
And really nothing more.
from his abc's
to that freaky billy jean
came a pop star
for all to love and see
from the apollo's stage
wondered if you were ready for screaming rage
for you never had a childhood of bliss
only done what was on joseph's list
a studded white glove
and white socks just because
a star on the hollywood walk of fame
for you sang and danced showing no shame
scandals of twisted truth
did not detour you from your missing youth
neverland was your own safari escape
who would figure your best friend would be a chimp of faith
michael may god cradle you in his arms
and basked in your king of pops worldly charm
will forever miss that porcelain smile
and always think of you on my radio dial
for now your at your heavens trial
may god forgive this lost and lonely child
In Loving Memory Of
Michael Joseph Jackson
Aug 29th 1958 - June 25th 2009
I do not know?
For every time we take a breath
And every time we stop to rest,
To look around at all that grows
Embracing all the love that flows.
Every rose has its thorn
Just like every night has its dawn
For every tear of sorrow we weep
The new day of thousands in forgotten sleep,
Unhinged the heart of one more soul
For King or Queen or eternal goal.
Every rose has its thorn
Just like every night has its dawn
The last of the tommys lays his wreath
For next time he may lye beneath,
Reunited with friends separated long ago
To re-live the highest high and the lowest low.
Every rose has its thorn
Just like every night has its dawn
For every rose
For every thorn
For every darkness
Unveils a new morn
She out on her own
hates being all alone
today she heard her wedding song
he had done her so wrong
There's no more tears
there are still fears
what happen to tender love and care
now no one is even their
No one to hold her hand
no one to understand
she wishes on stars up above
that soon she 'll find love
Where she won't get hurt
or treated like dirt
where she won 't be blue
found love thats true
Hiding like criminals, we crouch under this straw heap
It’s the third day in a row that hungry we have to sleep
Mama with her sunken face looks so pale
And Daddy, oh, he seems to be dying as his health has begun to fail
Margaret sits quietly without an emotion on her impassive face
While her little one, oblivious to the fear, has just started his life’s race
Suddenly, some footsteps make ominous sounds
In an instant are my parents, Margaret and the little one gagged and bound
I sit there, trembling, hidden from those brutes’ view
Silently saying in my heart all the prayers I knew
Loading their weapons, they take aim
Of course, for them it’s nothing more than a catch-and-kill game
I see my parents and my sister dying before my eyes
But I know I would meet a worse fate if raise my voice
As for the then surviving little one
There was an even more horrific death than that by gun
He is battered mercilessly against the stony wall
Oh, why is God deaf to his pleading call?
Pity is a great word spelled with a capital ‘P’
But those beasts had no idea what it could be
It’s rightly said that God’s loved ones are few
Among them, my family wasn’t there, perhaps, because we were Jews…..