From that ghastly trench,
whence the dead ne'er rose again,
far beyond that nauseating stench,
beyond wars grisly bane,
1918 left writhing grief alone,
thence a world that must atone,
for hateful sins that ministers and kings derived,
for young lives lost,
at such a dreadful cost,
for so much life deprived,
yet with nature's zephyr comes another terrible human moan,
as war once again rears it's fearsome head,
void of love and joy, instead,
another trench where death concocts it's home,
where shattered lives fall in pieces,
more souls lost and set adrift,
as ministers and kings cultivate yet another rift.