The Dead Lay Low

The dead lay low and the dying rave
For the pain they've been made to endure
On a field that paid nothing for all they gave.

Blood waters the grass and flows to lave
Away the sins of man cursed to endless war
Where the dead lay low and the dying rave.

Each boy and man thinks his violence will save
His folk, when war seduces with its allure.
On a field that paid nothing for all they gave

His life will be gone; no more sunrises he'll have,
Nor see again a friend, nor kiss a lover -
For he, dead lies low where the dying rave.

Tell me again it's all worth each grave -
I'll believe it still, when I've gone down yonder
To a field that paid nothing for all they gave.

The price of life may be the death of the brave,
But it yet remains such a painful cure
That the dead lay low and the dying rave
On a field that paid nothing for all they gave.

Featured image: ‘Dead Scottish Soldiers on the Battlefield Near Ypres,’ by Rene Beeh (1916), image in the public domain.

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