The Morning After Poem by Bill Simmons

Upon the morning after
The battlefield lay red
Where the cloverleaf it grows
Where the quail it beds

The fog of death it settles in
This once pictorial site
Where men they once walked this earth
But died for one man's right

Tonight will hear the mothers
The brothers, the sisters cry
As bodies they are brought back home
And loved ones close their eyes

Tomorrow it will be
In stone their memory
Where men they once laughed with us
But now no longer breath

Upon the morning after
No sweat upon his brow
The king who had his right to fight
Who shall I conquer now.