The Dance Poem by Michael Tulloch

In the stillness of the night
I can hear the cockerels fight.
In the bustle of the day
I can hear the hounds at play.
In the distance there's a drum
That will bid the soldiers come.

In the stillness of the night-
When the stars provide the light-
There's the sound of battle cries-
As the dead get up to fight.

In the passing of the breeze
And the rustling of the trees
There's the singling of a song
That will go on all night long.
And the words that can be heard,
Though we know that they're absurd
Say that all men love to fight
As'though the Dance of Death's their right.

In the crying of the young
Who know nought of what is done.
In the tears that mothers cry
When they know their sons must die.
As the words are not too clear,
So we say we cannot hear,
Say that all men love to fight,
As'though the dance of death's their right.

As the sun sets in the west
In it's blood red battle dress,
There's whisper on the wind
As the dead their wisdom sing.
And the words that should be heard,
But they never will be heard
Are that though man has to die,
The dance he should deny.