Colin F. Jones


What is the redness of red?
Consciousness is dead when dead,
And love has become a rose,
For the sake of our glorious prose.
Which side of the hill is best?
The one where we stop to rest?
Or where the Eagle’s shadow doth fall,
Where there is no freedom at all?
Mid the smoke and battle of war,
Nor for those who went and saw…
God why must those soldiers die?
Oh why… oh why, oh why???
Why do those soldiers die
Beneath the shadow of freedom’s eye?