Alas, from hither do I depart,
Oh, how it doth pierce mine heart.
Far away from the tall trees, the red hills, and the clear creeks,
Thither I must go.
Oh, why must it be so?
Why couldst we not be fair and free;
without death nor illness?
Why have they smote our brothers without remorse?
Are we not the same, you and I?
A differing view and a cautious eye,
Does that require blood to be shed?
I ask merely for rights, for heaven's sake!
The Lord likes not war nor pain,
Why must you burn our beloved home?
My brothers lay in mass graves, oh why?
We're not animals, as you might think!
Oh how you must feel strong,
with your muskets gleaming;
your lines long,
Ready to kill, and ready to destroy us.
A few years prior, we were brothers--
now you prepare for the slaughter,
Oh, how awful it is!
As our families lay sick with fever,
we tie muskets upon our backs;
with pictures of home in our sacks.
Ready to die for both God and country.
