Editing Too Many Sons
Jump to navigation
Jump to search
Warning: You are not logged in. Your IP address will be publicly visible if you make any edits. If you log in or create an account, your edits will be attributed to your username, along with other benefits.
The edit can be undone. Please check the comparison below to verify that this is what you want to do, and then publish the changes below to finish undoing the edit.
Latest revision | Your text | ||
Line 1: | Line 1: | ||
Written to be performed at Gulf Wars XXIX (2020): The War That Never Was | |||
My first son was born,<br> | |||
My first son was born | On a bright summer morn,<br> | ||
With laughter as long | With laughter as long,<br> | ||
And when the wars came, I begged him, “Don’t go”<br | As a hot summer day.<br> | ||
But glory called him, | And when the wars came,<br> | ||
He left my arms, | I begged him, “Don’t go”<br> | ||
On the battlefield, | But glory called him,<br> | ||
And he would not stay.<br> | |||
He left my arms,<br> | |||
With a laugh and a dream,<br> | |||
On the battlefield,<br> | |||
His laughs turned to screams.<br> | |||
Chorus | |||
I’ve lost too many sons,<br> | |||
To too many wars.<br> | |||
They’ve died far from home,<br> | |||
On those far distant shores.<br> | |||
The needs of a mother,<br> | |||
Are often ignored.<br> | |||
Now I’ll be a mother,<br> | |||
No more. No more!<br> | |||
I’ll be a mother,<br> | |||
No more.<br> | |||
My second to me,<br> | |||
In a cold winter freeze.<br> | |||
With a heart that could melt ice<br> | |||
As fast as a flame,<br> | |||
And when the wars came,<br> | |||
I begged him, “Don’t go”<br> | |||
But his spirit burned too hot,<br> | |||
For my words to tame.<br> | |||
On the battlefield,<br> | |||
A spear cold as ice,<br> | |||
Snuffed out that flame,<br> | |||
With a blow too precise.<br> | |||
Chorus | |||
My third son I’d bring,<br> | |||
In the warm days of spring,<br> | |||
With skin like a lily,<br> | |||
And cheeks like a rose.<br> | |||
And when the wars came,<br> | |||
I begged him, “Don’t go”<br> | |||
But he’d not be turned<br> | |||
From this path he had chose.<br> | |||
Given my choice,<br> | |||
I’d as soon raise a coward,<br> | |||
Then have the blood of my third son,<br> | |||
Now water the flowers.<br> | |||
Chorus | |||
' | Now three sons I’ve lost,<br> | ||
And they’ve measured the cost<br> | |||
Of a man’s life<br> | |||
To a small bag of gold.<br> | |||
And when the wars come,<br> | |||
I’ll say “I’ve no more.”<br> | |||
For the warmth I once carried<br> | |||
Is buried and cold.<br> | |||
Though it’s my sons in battle,<br> | |||
And there they were killed,<br> | |||
Make no mistake,<br> | |||
It is MY blood they've spilled.<br> | |||
Chorus | |||