When I was small
To me they told the joy this country did behold
I was taught to be good, kind, and polite
With my neighbor I should not fight
But as I grew, it occurred to me
That what they said was not to be
Then in my hands they placed a gun
"Go out and kill your neighborhood's son"
"But it was wrong," I said. It must be wrong
"Don't argue, son, you must be strong."
So across the sea I went
With many shells that must be spent
And in a hole I sat and cried
Wondering why those I loved to me had lied
My brothers fall with faces red
But it hurts no more
For I am dead
When I was small
To me they told the joy this country did behold
To me they told the joy this country did behold
I was taught to be good, kind, and polite
With my neighbor I should not fight
But as I grew, it occurred to me
That what they said was not to be
Then in my hands they placed a gun
"Go out and kill your neighborhood's son"
"But it was wrong," I said. It must be wrong
"Don't argue, son, you must be strong."
So across the sea I went
With many shells that must be spent
And in a hole I sat and cried
Wondering why those I loved to me had lied
My brothers fall with faces red
But it hurts no more
For I am dead
When I was small
To me they told the joy this country did behold