Upon seeing the little boy limp and dead on a Turkish beach…
LITTLE BOY, LITTLE BOY
Little boy, little boy,
So bright and happy.
To see him is to love him;
Such impish energy,
So alive,
So vibrant.
To see him play with his brother,
To hear them laugh,
Is to laugh with them,
Happy, happy little ones;
Happiness in tons.
But war has struck!
Their home is dust.
They take them to the dusty road,
The dad, the mom,
The little imps.
They join with hundreds more
En route to…
Where?
They see a newer hope
And so endure the rough,
The hunger and all abuse;
Until they get to Freedom Boat!
Too many push and pack therein,
But they endure,
And their hope is on the way.
They—are on their way.
Happy child. Innocent boy,
He laughs at sea spray on his nose;
He holds his brother’s hand.
The parents, though, are grim.
The mother fears the sea,
The father tense with anxiety.
Rogue Wave rises, tips the boat
And all into the sea.
The father grips the boys,
The mother suffers shock,
She is swept away…
The father struggles to stay afloat,
He holds the boys tight
and kicks against the sea–
But Rogue Wave’s vicious heart
Sweeps the boys away,
Those happy little ones,
Those precious little boys–
And a father’s tears increase the sea.
The mother gone,
The little ones, gone,
Taken by the cold, cold sea,
The sea,
As cold as the heart of war.
Cold, cold is the heart of war.
In the morning,
On Destiny’s sandy shore,
A wave so gently lays
The limp and lifeless boy
Upon the sand.
One lonely, lovely boy,
Now the face of war
In all its terrible, horrid,
Vile insanity.
One lonely, lovely,
Little boy…
Little boy…
A guardsman,
a rough and tough old guardsman,
stoops, and
Picks him up, so gently,
And carries him away…
And the world weeps.
Oh, the cost of witless war.
Oh help me soothe my weeping heart
From such wicked, wicked acts
That wrench our souls apart.
Oh war. What is it that you’ve wrought?
And what is it that you think you’ve bought?
O little boy,
O little boy.
