I Do not weep, maiden, for war is kind. And the affrighted steed ran on alone, Do not weep.
War is kind.
Hoarse, booming drums of the regiment, Little souls who thirst for fight, These men were born to drill and die. Do not weep, babe, for war is kind. Because your father tumbled in the yellow trenches, Raged at his breast, gulped and died, Do not weep. War is kind. Swift blazing flag of the regiment, Eagle with crest of red and gold, These men were born to drill and die.