I had a prodigal son, Mathew was his name
He went to war on a foreign shore
Lost his legs, and was never the same
He used to lay the bricks, now he lays a'bed
Strong arms strong back, they won't come back
Brand new boots, unused til he's dead
My second son named Mark, he had such clear green eyes
From Sunday Mass, to Mustard Gas
Coughing fits, until he dies
Blood flecks his lips, wracked by choking cough
Loses his breath, and waits for death
Mark my son, your life is lost
Luke, my tallest son, he answered his Captain's call
He sailed away, from Galway Bay
And lost a race with a cannon ball
It took him in the chest, and opened up his life
He fell to the deck, his body a wreck
His empty bed, and his lonely wife
The fate of my son John, the youngest son of mine
Just like the rest, he gave his best
The King calls war, hour glass runs dry
And now I sit alone, and gaze at the lonely shore
My heart is bent, my sons are spent
Alas my children, the sons of war.