I Met a Man Who Sang

I met a man once.

He sang me a tale of the great and heroic
Of fiery men, hard and stoic
And women quick-witted, chilled to the bone
Of their beauty an' love and deeds far from home.

He sang me a tale of the blood spilled and boiled
Of the children dying and the work that was toiled
Of the pain and the tears
And the many, many, many years.

I met a man once who sang me a tale–
Of passions and eyes and hearts all gone stale!

This man singing, he asked me,
"Now when did ye ever see such a tragedy?"
I asked the good man what cause lent this farce-
And he told me, "The killing of some innocent, who's knowledge was scarce."

I remember it to this day, his tale is true
That tale of what sunk in the cold deep deep blue.

His tale was fierce, it was brave, and it tore.
It tore from the hearts of both heroes and scorn.
This tale, THIS tale is a tale-
This tale is a tale
Of War.