Coward’s Blood ~ Philip Brent

How lovely a bouquet of yellow daffodils
In a clear glass vase, their stems cut short
Die the sooner, their life and beauty stills
Though death comes to all life, no resort

From the far field we hear a loud report
Death stalks the killing fields, watches all
Knowing the lives of children, he’ll abort
When to the duty of war any nation calls

Warmonger tics suck the blood of youth
Evil machinations by men who never fight
A profligate waste of life, the simple truth
Murder of who might save us, is not right

Look how flowers grow where soldiers fall
Although they grow as well with just manure
We should pound those fat tics with a maul
Hell, let’s just dump them all down a sewer