SONG OF THE MOTHERS.

Sun (Christchurch), Volume III, Issue 883, 8 December 1916, Page 6

SONG OF THE MOTHERS.

Over the sea in Flanders, Out there between the guns. With shell and gas and bayonet They're murdering our sons'. They're murdering our sons That the cannon may be fed; In heaps they lie 'neath the open sky, They lie in heaps, our dead. Mother—Mother -Mother—Mother- Mother— Your lad that once was dear, You cannot tell him from the soil he bleeds on, And there is none to hear! That the cannon may be fed They took away my son; To feed a hundred hungry iron mouths They took a million. Oh! there is hunger in our hearts, But we're but flesh and blood! Only the hungry cannon in his wrath Slav ask for human food. Mother Mother- Mother Mother-Mother— Oh! voice that will not cease Crying in our ears from dawn to midnight. Can you not sleep in peace? -Mother, we cannot soundly sleep For the wounds in head and breast, \nd this strange earth all trampled tan and red Tortures and gives no rest—(Mi! you must sleep in a hard lad Until the Judgment Day; The cannon clamours still and must be fed, And who shall say him nay? Mother Mother—Mother Mother MotherHut w< —do we not bleed? Pity us, lads, we live to hear your crying, liut ye are dead indeed! —Lady Margaret Sackvillc, ill " The Sphere."