Soul Dance
Two days past eighteen
He was waitin' for the bus in his army greens
Sat down in a booth a café there
Gave his order to a girl with a bow in her hair
He's a little shy but so she gave him a smile
So he said would you mind sittin' down for a while
And talkin' to me I'm feelin' a little low
She said I'm off in an hour and I know where we can go
So they went down and they sat on the pier
He said I bet you got a boyfriend but I don't care
I've got no one to send a letter to
Would you mind if I sent one back here to you
I
The Latin One
[ lyrics: Wilfred Owen/music: J.C. Lombardo ]
bent double like old beggars in sacks
knockkneed and cursing or coughing like hags
men marched on sleeping some without boots
fatigue drunken deaf still to the hoots
of breaking gas shells
dropping softly behind
but limped on bloodshod
all went lame all went blind
gas gas quick boys fumbling helmets in time
someone still screaming a man in fire or lime
under a grey cloud dim dark through green light
in all my dreaming before my helpless sight
he plunges at me
choking guttering drowning
put in a wagon he had to keep pace
as his eyes melt to his face
if you could hear blood
gurgling from ruptured lungs
if you could witness
vile sores on innocent tongues
you would not tell me
not with such pride and such zest
the lies of history
dulce et decorum est
pro patria mori
some desperate glory
pro patria mori
as witness disturbs the story
pro patria mori
stand firm boys breathe the glory