Oh the flames
Whipping wild at city gates
In Rome and Beijing and Cleveland
Frightening the old
Half cold in their graves
And surrounding the young
Half hung by their age.
Oh the flames
Lapping low at misty windows
This Great War came in as a prawn
Slandering our names
Half lame it doth crawl
Around corners and bricks
Half sticks it stands tall.
Oh the flames
Swirling sharp in your homes
Torching all of your treasured kin
Vanity disrobing slowly
Half holy is the violin
That plays us gently to sleep
Half sweet and so thin.