The War is on all Men are gone, with Women left to fend their way
Tis theirs which is the sorry plight and not the heroes far away
Some left with Children three or four (perchance he’s just forgot)
Whilst off to fight the Good Lord knows, she’s on her own he’s not
Now young uns too take up the call, enlisting ‘fore their time
In future tense with any sense, be looked on as a crime

With blind eyes turned in terms of age (tho each doth know the truth)
By making mark upon the page hath signed away their youth
Twere used for digging trenches and then when time allowed
Used for cannon fodder mingled with the crowd

Denial came from those in power, “ne’r wouldst sanction same”
Twas always thus, ‘twill always be, absolving selves from blame
Upon return all can discern, the size of caskets met
By Mothers who are Widows (and they face such prospect yet)