A cry was heard from o’er the Barricade
Twas one that’s shared by all (we Sons of same)
Whilst craving of her arms as life doth fade
Tis less of gentle plea, more loud exclaim!
What primal need drives men unto the womb?
Which nurtured them thru all that lay in store
What solace do we seek from sweet perfume?
Of singular bouquet midst stench of War
Within such arms enfolded, all regress
Remembrance of a time once deemed as past
Tho buried for so long, one can’t suppress
True nature of the bond (here proved to last)
We are as one with Brothers at this time
Pray come to me your Son,”Oh Mother Mine!”