One Cold Kansas Moon

Frenzy cannot be controlled, they knew that too well. ~Battle of the Washita, November 27th 1868~

One Cold Kansas Moon

 

‘’ Hush the dogs, we’re movin’ in!

Straight into the storm

Through the snow, down the valley

We’ll fight into the morn!

With sabres high and rifles loud

Our time is now at hand

So, Captain, take your horse and

Strike up the band!’’

 

Someone shot a gun and the cold turned to heat

Music drowned the moment before the wind stole the beat

The horsemen they came running, bursting through the trees

Trampling through the riverbed before it could freeze

 

The sound of yells, the smell of smoke

Turned their eyes to black

All directions, ‘’this is it

Ain’t no turnin’ back!’’

 

No time to run, no time to hide, the minutes can’t be found

One, two, three, four, too many hit the ground

They had no reason to give their lives for a cause we don’t know

Children ran in Mothers’ footsteps, I don’t know where they’d go

 

Frenzy cannot be controlled

They all knew that too well

Red on white, torn up blue

The scene a living hell

Who makes the orders in this mess?

Who listens when they’re cried?

‘’ Stop! Stop! Stop! Stop!’’

Then in the midst they died

 

‘’ Stop! Stop! Stop! Stop!’’

Who listens when they’re cried?

‘’ Stop! Stop! Stop! Stop!’’

Is this how we want to die?

Author's Note

142nd anniversary of the Battle of the Washita today, so I wrote this for the day.