Brought to arms we fight

Till broken and bruised we fall

All is lost in the night

Tending to the sirens call

Rising up the wind carries the wail

An infant’s voice piercing the air

Over the bloodied field it does sail

Over the weapons laid bare

A mother’s soft plea

Weak and feeble she begs

Crying for the life of her baby

On folded legs

Where love and duty meet.

Old friends’ death and birth greet.