Limestone walls hanging from the soil
eighty souls went off to fight for eyes
to see the glory of the Lord, and only
twenty came home. The town died.
Boys we are entered in a great battle
for the soul of our union. God has
given you and I the strength of
arms to enter into this fray. Follow
me, stand with me, step over
the line of these hills, and we
shall stand and fall together
as men of God’s soil. For mine
eyes have seen the glory.
The trampled vintage of wrathful
grapes returned. With limbs and
lives and sinews torn, from the wounds
of that terrible swift sword. And the truth
of all those boys, torn from the heart
of their hopes, tore the town down.
The limestone walls rise now from that
broken soil, dentaled, hollowed, unseeing
yet possessed of the blood beneath their soil.
The hearts that stepped forward
in the love for their leader cry out
the loss of their youth and the pain
of those who survived.