Too Many Sons

Written to be performed at Gulf Wars XXIX (2020): The War That Never Was

Too Many Sons by Jon Chesey

My first son was born,
On a bright summer morn,
With laughter as long,
As a hot summer day.
And when the wars came,
I begged him, “Don’t go”
But glory called him,
And he would not stay.
He left my arms,
With a laugh and a dream,
On the battlefield,
His laughs turned to screams.

Chorus

I’ve lost too many sons,
To too many wars.
They’ve died far from home,
On those far distant shores.
The needs of a mother,
Are often ignored.
Now I’ll be a mother,
No more. No more!
I’ll be a mother,
No more.

My second to me,
In a cold winter freeze.
With a heart that could melt ice
As fast as a flame,
And when the wars came,
I begged him, “Don’t go”
But his spirit burned too hot,
For my words to tame.
On the battlefield,
A spear cold as ice,
Snuffed out that flame,
With a blow too precise.

Chorus

My third son I’d bring,
In the warm days of spring,
With skin like a lily,
And cheeks like a rose.
And when the wars came,
I begged him, “Don’t go”
But he’d not be turned
From this path he had chose.
Given my choice,
I’d as soon raise a coward,
Then have the blood of my third son,
Now water the flowers.

Chorus

Now three sons I’ve lost,
And they’ve measured the cost
Of a man’s life
To a small bag of gold.
And when the wars come,
I’ll say “I’ve no more.”
For the warmth I once carried
Is buried and cold.
Though it’s my sons in battle,
And there they were killed,
Make no mistake,
It is MY blood they've spilled.

Chorus