There's something in your eyes, Michael, an' how they stare and stare-
You're lookin' at me now, me boy, as if I wasn't there . . ."
"It's just the things I've seen, mother, the sights that come and come,
A bit o' broken, bloody pulp that used to be a chum. . . "
Micheal
Robert Service served in the armed forces in the Red Cross. He wrote passionately of his experiences of war. In 1916, he wrote a book of poetry, Ballads of a Red Cross Man. Five years later while residing in France he wrote another book of verse, Ballads of a Bohemian, where he speaks of those who came back from war but still carried its madness with them as they continue with there lives. Michael is a conversation between a mother and son. Although it was written about World War I, the "War To End All Wars", it could have been written about any one of the many, many, many wars since. Here's hoping someday Michael's prophecy will come true. Links to Wisconsin Peace Sites
Michael
by Robert W. Service
There's something in your face, Michael, I've seen it all the day;
There's something quare that wasn't there when first ye wint away . . ."
"It's just the Army life, mother, the drill, the left and right,
That puts the stiffnin' in yer spine and locks yer jaw up tight . . ."
There's something in your eyes, Michael, an' how they stare and stare-
You're lookin' at me now, me boy, as if I wasn't there . . ."
"It's just the things I've seen, mother, the sights that come and come,
A bit o' broken, bloody pulp that used to be a chum. . . "
There's something on your heart, Michael, that makes ye wake at night,
And often when I hear ye moan, I trimble in me fright. . ."
"It's just the man I killed, mother, a mother's son like me;
It seems he's always hauntin' me, he'll never let me be. . ."
"But maybe he was bad, Michael, maybe it was right
To kill the inimy you hate in fair and honest fight. . ."
"I did not hate at all, mother, he never did me harm;
I think he was a lad like me, who worked upon a farm. . ."
"And what's it all about, Michael, why did you have to go,
A quiet, peaceful lad like you, and we were happy so? . . ."
"It's thim that's up above, mother, it's thim that sits an' rules;
We've got to fight the wars they make, it's us as are the fools. . ."
And what will be the end, Michael, and what's the use, I say,
Of fightin' if whoever wins it's us that's got to pay? . . ."
"Oh, its will be the end, mother, when lads like him and me,
That sweat to feed the ones above, decide that we'll be free. . ."
"And when will that day come, Michael, and when will fightin' cease,
And simple folks may till their soil and live and love in peace? . . ."
"It's coming soon and soon, mother, it's nearer every day,
When only men who work and sweat will have a word to say;
When all who earn their honest bread in every land and soil
Will claim the Brotherhood of Man, the Comradeship of Toil
When we, the Workers, all demand: 'What are we fighting for?' . . .
Then, then we'll end that stupid crime, that devil's madness - War."
From "Ballads of a Bohemian" published 1921
