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.