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Seventeen men standing on a shaft

Of grey sunlight

Seventeen men waiting for a draft

Of black and white

 

Seventeen men all proud and blind

For the victory

Seventeen men all loony in their mind

Oh contradictory

 

Seventeen men fervent on a march

To their slow doom

Seventeen men die, drop, and parch

Not enough room

 

Seventeen men are abandoned prostrate

On the battlefield

Seventeen men become slaves to their state

All their hearts are sealed

 

Seventeen men praised above the ground

Lie breathlessly beneath

Seventeen men glorified by the pound

Their graves, their souls bequeath

 

Seventeen men were in love with an idea and went to war

Seventeen men died for a border and fought for a whore

Whore.

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