The March of the Dead - Country Joe McDonald

The cruel war was over?

oh, the triumph was so sweet!

We watched the troops returning, through our tears;

There was triumph, triumph, triumph down the scarlet glittering street

And you scarce could hear the music for the cheers

And you scarce could see the house-tops for the flags that flew between;

The bells were pealing madly to the sky;

And everyone was shouting for the soldiers of the Queen

And the glory of an age was passing by

And then there came a shadow, swift and sudden, dark and drear;

The bells were silent, not an echo stirred

The flags were drooping sullenly, the men forgot to cheer;

We waited, and we never spoke a word

The sky grew darker, darker, till from out the gloomy rack

There came a voice that checked the heart with dread:

«Tear down, tear down your bunting now, and hang up sable black;

They are coming?

it’s the Army of the Dead.»

They were coming, they were coming, gaunt and ghastly, sad and slow

They were coming, all the crimson wrecks of pride;

With faces seared, and cheeks red smeared, and haunting eyes of woe

And clotted holes the khaki couldn’t hide

Oh, the clammy brow of anguish!

the livid, foam-flecked lips!

The reeling ranks of ruin swept along!

The limb that trailed, the hand that failed, the bloody finger tips

And oh, the dreary rhythm of their song!

«They left us on the veldt-side, but we felt we couldn’t stop

On this, our England’s crowning festal day;

We’re the men of Magersfontein, we’re the men of Spoin Kop

Colenso?

we’re the men who had to pay

We’re the men who paid the blood-price

Shall the grave be all our gain?

You owe us.

Long and heavy is the score

Then cheer us for our glory now, and cheer us for our pain

And cheer us as you never cheered before.»

The folks were white and stricken, each tongue seemed weighed with lead;

Each heart was clutched in hollow hand of ice;

And every eye was staring at the horror of the dead

The pity of the men who paid the price

They were come, were come to mock us, in the first flush of our peace;

Through writhing lips their teeth were all agleam;

They were coming in their thousands?

oh, would they never cease!

I closed my eyes and then?

it was a dream

I closed my eyes and then?

it was a dream

There was triumph, triumph, triumph down the scarlet gleaming street;

The town was mad;

a man was like a boy

A thousand flags were flaming where the sky and city meet;

A thousand bells were thundering the joy

There was music, mirth and sunshine, but some eyes shone with regret;

And while we stun with cheers our homing braves

O God, in Thy great mercy, let us nevermore forget

The graves they left behind, the bitter graves

The graves they left behind, the bitter graves