A child crying, A mother weeping,
A flag flying low , A president sleeping

Musicians who played for love
Now hoarded and bound together in state bands
Their hearts forever riding the crimson surf
Blood seeping from their eyes and their clarinets

A few words of honor, a few words of bravery
A few shots to scare away the crows
Your son is getting old enough for that slavery
Let us send him to die at a foreign shore
Dulce et decorum est Pro patria mori
Dulce et decorum est Pro patria mori

Here is a folded flag and a coin for all your trouble
Sing us a prayer now, of those who went
And never came out of the rubble

A general is shouting, a crowd roaring
The poor died last night, the rich were snoring