Where
have all the young men gone?
Streams
and streams of bewildered
And
frightened people
Old
woman, old men and crying children
Walking
with their possessions
From
large houses, villages and homes
Smoke
trailing from valleys and flats
Pouring
into the air
Cleansing
the sky with darkness
From
fires lit behind them
Oh
Slobbo, were are all our young people
All
the pretty girls, the young men?
Our
fruit our flowers our seeds
Where
have all our young men gone?
March
1999
(C) Copyright 1999
EWAN ELLIOTT
All Rights Reserved
