I had a prodigal son, Mathew was his name He went to war on a foreign shore Lost his legs, and was never the same He used to lay the bricks, now he lays a'bed Strong arms strong back, they won't come back Brand new boots, unused til he's dead My second son named Mark, he had such clear green eyes From Sunday Mass, to Mustard Gas Coughing fits, until he dies Blood flecks his lips, wracked by choking cough Loses his breath, and waits for death Mark my son, your life is lost Luke, my tallest son, he answered his Captain's call He sailed away, from Galway Bay And lost a race with a cannon ball It took him in the chest, and opened up his life He fell to the deck, his body a wreck His empty bed, and his lonely wife The fate of my son John, the youngest son of mine Just like the rest, he gave his best The King calls war, hour glass runs dry And now I sit alone, and gaze at the lonely shore My heart is bent, my sons are spent Alas my children, the sons of war.