The Woe Of War

He lies there screaming, blood in his hair,
Screaming and dying in the medics care.
His mouth open, his eyes alight,
His screams loud, echoing in the night.
He's a small lad, had been quite keen,
The shot came from no-where, the enemy unseen.
He had no hope, did not even know,
As the round struck his head with a fierce blow.
Pierced his scalp and sent him to the floor,
Ending his life at just twenty four.
Now he lies on the dirt in a pool of blood,
Covered in brains, covered in mud.
Crying for his father, his sister and his mother,
Crying for his son, his daughter and his brother.
What can we do, what can we say,
To ease his passing on this fateful day.
And when he's gone, his body still,
They throw him in the truck and bury him on the hill.
Thats just one more, One more to die,
No time to say sorry, help or good-bye.
The hundreds we've lost lay quiet and dead,
No horrible thoughts passing through their head.
But we're here still, have to regret and think,
Our faces begin to drop, our hearts start to sink.
All this heartache, All what for?
Why, O' Why, The Woe of War.