Firewood’s crackling, flames raging
Other than the sounds of murmured praying.
Boots, coats, boughs and poles
Ready to march when the whistle blows.

In this cold eve of war
Gathering all mankind and more.
Amidst the tension in the air
There’s a silent hope no one care.

Children of tomorrow standing together
Remembering their good byes and hugging each other.
This is our home, this is our land
If we are to fall, tall we stand.

Kings and Queens on the throne
Fear of being overthrown.
Set their soldiers out to slay
Alas! Puppets they obey.

Out of many stood one kinsman
Wearing a long coat of crimson.
Asked the king can we not be in harmony
Rather than conquering, playing monopoly.

Standing mighty like morning glory in gold
Robed in velvet, heart cruel and cold.
Clutching his chest the kinsman fell
Leaving a trace of cartridge smell.