PLAYING SOLDIERS

(Tune: original, mostly)

The sun shines on the furrowed field, the farmer drives the plough,
His wife is sweetly singing as she goes to milk the cow,
The dog dreams on the doorstep, and a bird sings on the bough,
And the little ones are outside playing soldiers.

The moon shines on the city streets, on chimney top and spire,
And touches every angle with a gleam of lunar fire,
And in the shadowed alley there's a whisper of desire,
The streets are full of young men playing soldiers.

)---(

	The war has racked this land of ours too many nights and days,
	The war respects no person, there's no rule the war obeys,
	The losers are the ashes in the all-consuming blaze,
	And the winners win the freedom to grow older...

From up here in my attic I have scanned the troubled skies,
My studies have revealed the future clearly to my eyes,
And my soul is sick within me at the carnage and the lies,
For the nations are not done with playing soldiers.

Resistance like a canker breeds within these slighted walls,
The wrong done by the conquerors for bloody vengeance calls,
If two can find each other when that greater darkness falls,
They must put aside the joys of playing soldiers.

)---(

	The peace that lies upon us now will have its fleeting day,
	But greater wars are brewing that could sweep the world away,
	The children must be taught that there are saner games to play,
	For their hearts are cold, but death is so much colder...

	And playing dead's the hardest part of playing soldiers.