The Perfect Fields of Fredericksburg
The mower cuts the lower field
The grass grows slow this year
Still, every week, all summer long
I see that mower here
Around the fields of Fredericksburg
In this fair morning light
A place we call a monument
Straight lines up Marye's Heights
A mile further down this hill
The river Burnside crossed
Who razed this town clear to the ground
Then every soldier lost
The engine drones, the mower slows
Whеre young boys stood in fear
It stops for time to clеan the blades
Then slowly disappears
The broken walls, the soldiers' calls
The frightened guns are gone
Still, shops that sell the souvenirs
Say, "Choose which side you're on."
And children search for evidence
To prove a war was here
And perfect fields of Fredericksburg
Hide blood and bones, and tears