MY SON


They stole him from me to send him off to war,
and there he stayed to fight and die till it was done.
Itís bad when governments steal sons from you,
and he was by son.
They said this war had to be fought
And that it was for a just and noble cause.
So, since I was patriotic and voted for them,
I stood by their laws.
But it always seems to be the young who go
And against whom the scales of death are swung.
It's bad when governments send young men off to die,
And my son was young.

For what matters to them of a million deaths
When war is the tender of life they promote?
You can be sure when their reelection comes up,
They wonít get by vote!
For the enemy is now my chosen leader,
The enemy called peace that all governments abhor!
And you can be sure they wonít get any more of my sons,
Till they end all war.
Oh they may think they can get away with murder
and do any damn thing they feel must be done,
but they wonít take what I love away from me again,
And I loved by son.

By: Patrick P. Stafford