Oh Madeleine

Oh Madeleine
Our Son's not coming home.
Blow out all light, in night
That seems so long.
Encased in oak, entwined with scents
Of foreign Lands,
Bear him on the shoulders
Of six weeping soldiers.

Oh Madeleine,
My Son , Your Son is Dead
Send Patrick to the village with the news.
So many friends will see him in the Aisle
Kiss his lifeless body for a while.
Oh Madeleine,
My precious Son has died.
Without him can we live our lives again?
Or with a grief just follow him deep down
Beneath the crying ruins
Of this town.