“Give me one less soldier’s widow,” I hear you cry at me.
“One less flag-draped casket,” you sigh pathetically.
“One less gun salute, we don’t need guns no more.
“One less sound of Taps,” you say. “We’ll have an end of war.”
As the soldier’s wife became a widow, his children remained free.
As one flag draped his casket, it whispered ‘Old Glory’.
As the rifles cracked in honor, they shattered tyranny.
As the trumpet solo carried, the note pledged Liberty.
Every death brings sorrow, and every sorrow pain.
A sacrifice bravely given changes bitter loss to gain.
For if we had one less widow we would have a weaker stand.
And if one less casket, an undefended land.
Degradation would erupt if there were one less gun salute.
We’d hear the cry of slavery if Taps were to fall mute.
So preach to me of peace and the fellowship of men.
But know that fellowship and peace were bought
By each fallen veteran.