In the peak of midnight’s sunshine,
As rabid nightmares haunt sublime
With faces, of my foe now dead
All pale black, and blood crimson red.

To see the haunted spectres fly
Of good soldiers, that would die
And of brave men that sat and cried,
Who with brave face, had many lied.

To see the tears on painted face
That ran as rain down silken lace
Of broken hearts; their life now lost
But who will count this deadly cost?

Born of fine women, staid and strong
Soldiers brave, could do no wrong
Yet politicians often lied,
Dads, Sons, and Daughters, many died