SLAVES, TO THE SLAUGHTER!
The drums roll forth their summons,
The war-like bugles thrill,
From here and there and everywhere
The slaves are given arms to bear
Some other slaves to kill.
Each one must do his "duty"—
Must find warm blood to spill;
For "wrong" or "right," with dread or spite,
Although HE has no cause to fight;—
It is his master's will.
He leaves his wife or mother,
He learns to march and drill,
For wise men say, "Ah, haste the day
When you can stab and shoot and slay—
God bless you while—YOU KILL!"
They praise him in the papers
With patriotic swill;
They dress him in a gaudy suit
And teach him how to aim and shoot,
Then send him forth to—KILL.
The "lawful" zealots laud him,
(Their guarded codes are nil)
In accents loud they tell the crowd
That "lawful" murder is allowed;
It IS NO CRIME TO KILL.
24
