The Domestic War

All of the sons fight the wars of their fathers
And all of the fathers give them their guns
At the same time the fathers surrender their daughters
To whatever circumstances may come

Mother flee with me says my dear brother
And we'll build our home from mortar and stone
For this is the land, cultivated by father
And all his crops are well over grown

Father decided that the valley was too barren
So he sent his sons said "make flowers to grow"
I hear the sons crying honor for father!
That same year they all died in the snow

The valley it grows from hillside to hillside
And all of the flowers look like uncles and aunts
It grows steadily; and the growing it won't cease
Under whatever circumstances may come

Then my dear sister had a sad misadventure
She was caught in the snare of the string and the pail
Now she sweeps the streets for the sons of my father
She weeps for her dreams that have long gone stale

Where is brother who ran with my mother
Woe for my sister and her newborn son
Woe for this daughter who fled from her father
And whatever circumstances may come