no proper patience

we listen for the names of all our dead

keeping no track of any passing time

for them there is no clock now that will chime

no mouth of theirs will taste again the bread

none of their feet be set upon the climb

we listen for the names of all our dead

so long the hours of waiting and of dread

when all the good were dragged into the slime

instead of glory there was guilt and grime

we listen for the names of all our dead