With burning smoke and bullets spray,
Here comes the wrath of days,
Like creeping fog in early may,
Here comes the Dies Irae.

With rockets scream and grenades throw,
Here comes the wrath of days,
So much blood where death will sow,
Here comes the Dies Irae.

With a mortar blow and bomb drops,
Here comes the wrath of days,
Looking round at burning crops,
Here comes the Dies Irae.

With child’s tears and bellies bloat,
There goes the wrath of days,
Rivers filled with bodies float,
There goes the Dies Irae.

With winters chill and cockroach scuttle,
There goes the wrath of days,
And if it’s not that subtle,
Here comes the Dies Irae.