GETTYSBURG by Lenny Solomon

© L. Solomon 2003

The swords were drawn from their scabbards

That hot, faithless day in July

When the young should be laughing and swimming

Instead of just fixing to die

Thunder rocked from the hillside

Fireballs burst out their call

Bullets came out of nowhere

The screaming of death’s cannonball

In Gettysburg, in Gettysburg

Caleb was crouched in a hovel

Hoped that its walls would protect

From the hate and hunger and misery

From the devil who’s out to collect

When the door of his shack was blown open

By a wind that was shrouded in black

He cringed as it whistled right through him

He knew he was not coming back

To Gettysburg, to Gettysburg

Now I can’t hear a sound in Gettysburg

The screams are long silent and cold

For the truths of those days

Are now buried in graves

With stories that were never told

The hills are aflame from this horror

Brother against brother on the land

Their father had worked for the both of them

Now they both draw a line in the sand

And the ghosts of their past are just speechless

As the blood rains down from the sky

Covers the birch and the beeches

And the cries of the young ‘fore they die

In Gettysburg, in Gettysburg