What right have we to think for God, to choose between such things,
between a child and easiness, winter and dappled springs,
what right have we to murder young ones, kill the mild of heart,
to God and babes of newfound life to hurdle far apart,
to yank from children laughter, and the joys of living found,
to bind in dismal drunkenness of sadness they're confound,
why abandon innocence, to comfort lonely lives,
bound in blood are all they now together never thrives,
"why" they ask us " do we die for you and you alone,"
raise them with me knights of life upon a gaudy throne,
for they did die from no self fault, or ugly sinful breath,
merely because they lived alone are they sentenced to death.