The flute plays, ballads of war
battle drums on every door

Young men forget romantic sonnets
busy with guns and bayonets

Soon shall be the plaintive dirge
when victors, amidst vanquished, emerge

The living relish the victory song
the dead gone, heroes unsung

The veterans return in endless ode
the rookie consigned to nether-abode

Empty-hearted elegy
naught acknowledged in eulogy

The heavens weep
for beneath mortals reap
a harvest of life-fluid

To mother earth another crimson bath
sparing naught in their path

The little boy dances to the ballads
with intent to impress the female lads

Ignorant that tomorrow
he'll be the object of sorrow

In innocent oblivion he plays
but soon will be gone such days

The ballad will birth the dirge
the sonnets bow out for the elegy

But the ode shall remain
for the warriors
for the war
for mother earth.