The Bugler
He stands alone on bloodsoaked land
A polished brass bugle in his hand
His eyes were filled with tears of grief
The Bugle plays a sad remorse echo, relief
A lonely figure stands upon the hill
All shadows.. bodies now are still
The Bugler stands and plays alone
Sweet and sour.. the notes he plays
Of mates and friends in happier days
Now on the battlefield he stays
He haunts us all.. the music he plays
The latest tune of teardrop calls
He stands and another figure falls
The tune attack , the gunshot sounds
The fighting on the dusty mounds
Fierce the voices, they scream and die
The bugle questions and asks why
The tune it plays our sad, remorse
Once again an ugly war has taken course
What is left to answer a thousand whys
Another brave person here too dies
Somewhere far away another mother cries
And tears in sadness, a father sighs
The tune of the bugle sings another tear
This war may yet last another year.
So heed the sound of bittersweet
For war is making our children its meat
For goodness sake lets stop this mess
Before it takes our very best
Let the bugle sing its tune this day
The sadness takes them all I guess
Cant stop the War nor end this bloody mess
by Stuart Chugg
(Received May 7, 2000)
Copyright Stuart Chugg, 2000. All rights reserved.
