THE ALDER TREE
(A Song of War)
Underneath the shade of an alder tree
a young man said a prayer that he might be free,
he had seen the blue,
he had seen the grey,
he had seen the red
blood that ran away.
Dies irae, dies illa, solvet saeclum in favilla!
Outside an open door where soldiers danced in hell
the widowed weeds cry 'peace' with candle, book, and bell
The flies now rule the world and all its crimson days,
they beat their sticky drums, black flags and wicked ways.
Dies irae, dies illa, solvet saeclum in favilla!
Inside a feathered bed, her fingers in his hair,
the missile maker's son eats cherry, plum and pear.
Great 'sats' will bring him war, the journos and the brave,
but he cannot taste the blood, he cannot smell the grave.
Dies irae, dies illa, solvet saeclum in favilla!
(copyright: Finbar Wright)