Gordon Lightfoot: The patriot's dream

The songs of the wars are as old as the hillsThey cling like the rust on the cold steel that killsThey tell of the boys who went down to the tracksIn a patriotic manner with the cold steel on their backsThe patriot's dream is as old as the skyIt lives in the lust of a cold callous lieLet's drink to the men who got caught by the chillOf the patriotic fever and the cold steel that killsThe train pulled away on that glorious nightThe drummer got drunk and the bugler got tightWhile the boys in the back sang a song of good cheerWhile riding off to glory in the spring of their yearsThe patriot's dream still lives on todayIt makes mothers weep and it makes lovers prayLet's drink to the men who got caught by the chillOf the patriotic fever and the cold steel that killsWell there was a sad, sad ladyWeeping all night longShe received a sad, sad messageFrom a voice on the telephoneHer children were all sleepingAs she waited out the dawnHow could she tell those childrenThat their father was shot downSo she took them to her side that dayAnd she told them one by oneYour father was a good man ten thousand miles from homeHe tried to do his duty and it took him straight to hellHe might be in some prison, I hope he's treated wellWell there was a young girl watching in the early afternoonWhen she heard the name of someone who said he'd be home soonAnd she wondered how they got him, but the papers did not tellThere would be no sweet reunion, there would be no wedding bellsSo she took herself into her room and she turned the bed sheets downAnd she cried into the silken folds of her new wedding gownHe tried to do his duty and it took him straight to hellHe might be in some prison, I hope he's treated wellWell there was an old man sitting in his mansion on the hillAnd he thought of his good fortune and the time he'd yet o killWell he called to his wife one day, "Come sit with me awhile"Then turning toward the sunset, he smiled a wicked smile"Well I'd like to say I'm sorry for the sinful deeds I've doneBut let me first remind you, I'm a patriotic son"They tried to do their duty and it took 'em straight to hellThey might be in some prison, I hope they're treated wellThe songs of the wars are as old as the hillsThey cling like the rust on the cold steel that killsThey tell of the boys who went down to the tracksIn a patriotic manner with the cold steel on their backsThe train pulled away on that glorious nightThe drummer got drunk and the bugler got tightWhile the boys in the back sang a song of good cheerWhile riding off to glory in the spring of their yearsThe patriot's dream still lives on todayIt makes mothers weep and it makes lovers prayLet's drink to the men who got caught by the chillOf the patriotic fever and the cold steel that kills...