For whom the bells toll   When sentenced to die   The stuttering rifles   Will stifle the cry   The monstrous anger   The fear's rapid rattle   A desert inferno   Kids dying like cattle      Don't tell me   We're not prepared   I've seen today's marine   He's eighteen and he's eager   He can be quite mean      No mock'ries for them   No prayers or bells   The demented choirs   The wailing of shells   The boys holding candles   On untraveled roads   The fear spreads like fire   As shrapnel explodes      I think it's wrong   To conscript our youth   Against their will   When plenty of our citizenry   Really like to kill      What sign posts will lead   To armageddon's fires   What bugles will call them   From crowded grey shires   The women sit quiet   With death on their minds   A slow dusk descending   The drawing of blinds      Make the hunters all line up   It's their idea of fun   And let those be forgiven   Who never owned a gun   Was it him or me   Or the wailing of the dead   The laughing soldiers   Cast their lots   And you can cut the dread