The Ghouls
Helen Hamilton
1882 to 1954
Track 1
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Of young men dead.
Who gloat with dulled old eyes,
Those dreadful lists,
Over those lists,
To your private Roll of Honour.
New value,
Unknowingly you draw, it seems,
You strange old ghouls,
You strange old ghouls,
Who gloat with dulled old eyes,
However distant,
Now that yours are ebbing.
Those dreadful lists,
Over those lists,
From their young bodies,
To see what name
Fresh life,
Dead young bodies,
Of friend of relation,
May be appended
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