Colin F. Jones


What does a bullet care ‘bout who you are,
It defines no moon no planet from a star,
And passes through false cloud as it doth speed,
Towards the purpose of its useful need.
‘Tis all the better if the gun well aimed,
Has in its sights a worthy target framed,
For then despite its ill that it spills blood,
It might thereafter be seen as doing good.
For sometimes he who dies leaves empty space,
Or yet for ambitious men a worthwhile place,
Worth the battle to raise the gun again,
To sign the law books with a fresher name
Therefore restoring war to battlefields,
Lest peace doth hamper the manufacture of more shields.