Grandma's Battle Cry

That was the war to end all wars to save democracy
Praise God, they said, we've won the peace
For all eternity
I marched for Spain when some years passed
And marched & marched & then
Another war to end all wars & So I marched again

I marched in Minneapolis, Chicago & Duluth
In San Francisco & New York, I marched to shout the truth
I marched in Hiroshima & knealt before a stash
Of tens of millions bones of people atomized to ash
And with the distant rumble of new regiments of men
I read the warning on the tomb: "This must not be again"

I marched to staunch Korea's blood, I marched for Vietnam
I marched to stop the napalm & I marched to stop the bomb
I marched & marched & marched, Oh Lord- I'm sure I've done my due
I marched since I was barely 10 & now I'm 72

I should be lying in the sun or dreaming in the grass
But how, when generals everywhere are polishing their brass
Entranced with dreams of four-star roles - so help me, lord, they're glad
It's said that whom the gods destroy, they first must render mad

Their burning eyes see no-man's land & armies poised for action
And you, my warm and loving ones, you're merely an abstraction

It's geopolitics again & oh, with what finesse
The players push their pawns about, these masterminds of chess
How cunningly they plot each move, how skillfully they spar
And checkmate one another like the masters that they are

How stimulating, how intense, a world to lose or gain
Except for one dismaying fact, the players are insane
Controlled, dispassionate they play this game that madness spawns
And I can't even look away- my children are the pawns

[Chorus]

3. Some people keep on fighting when they've lost an arm or leg
Some still keep up the struggle when they're fragile as an egg
I've heard men rasping, "I object!" with voices turned to gravel
I've seen a woman raise a fist who couldn't lift a gavel

And even with a broken heart, one still can make a stand
So lead, my children, lead the way- reach back & take my hand
We'll march again, confound them all- don't quibble at my age
I'll shield you with my brittle bones- I'll nourish you with rage

[Chorus]

© 1980, Words by Irene Paul, Music by Barbara Tilson