For whom do the bells toll 
When sentenced to die The stuttering rifles Will stifle the cry The 
monstrous anger The fear's rapid rattle A desert inferno Kids dying 
like cattle Don't tell me We're not prepared I've seen today's marine 
He's eighteen and he's eager He can be quite mean No mock'ries for 
them No prayers or bells The demented choirs The wailing of shells The 
boys holding candles On untraveled roads The fear spreads like fire As 
shrapnel explodes I think it's wrong To conscript our youth Against 
their will When plenty of our citizenry Really like to kill What sign 
posts will lead To armageddon's fires What bugles will call them From 
crowded grey shires The women sit quiet With death on their minds A 
slow dusk descending The drawing of blinds Make the hunters all line 
up It's their idea of fun And let those be forgiven Who never owned a 
gun Was it him or me Or the wailing of the dead The laughing soldiers 
Cast their lots And you can cut the dread.