War Widow

'Twas with a heart of leaden woe
Poor Alphonze went to war;
And though it's true he did not know
What he was fighting for
He grieved because unto Marie
He'd been but three weeks wed:
Tough luck! Another three and he
Was listed with the dead

Marie was free if she would fain
Another spouse to choose;
But if she dared to wed again
Her pension she would lose
And so to mourn she did prefer
And widow to remain
Like many dames whose husbands were
Accounted with the slain

Yet she was made for motherhood
With hips and belly broad
And should have born a bonny brood
To render thanks to God
Ah! If with valour Alphonze hadn't
Fallen in the fray
Proud Marie would have been a glad
Great grandmother today

Yet maybe it is just as well
She has not bred her kind;
The ranks of unemployment swell
And flats are hard to find
For every year the human race
Richly we see increase
And wonder how they'll find a place
Well, that's the curse of Peace

So let us hail the gods of war
With joy and jubilation
Who favour foolish mankind for
They prune the population;
And let us thank the hungry guns
Forever belching doom
That slaughter bloodily our sons
To give us elbow room