Care ye not oh fearsome lads
The ones ye left lie crying
Face ye your country’s enemy
Without a thought for dying

the wee lad cuddles mother
Her breast his haven safe
Your wife kens not a refuge
Pulls closer yet the waif

Left here the two to wonder
Should ye survive the day
Or die at hand of stranger
In heat of battle’s fray

The soldier’s death discredits
War’s goodness or its worth
Forgive ye Lord the scoundrel
Whoever gave it birth