Cruel War - Harry Belafonte

Oh the cruel war is raging

Your daddy must fight

And I know I will miss you

From morning till night

You cannot go with me

It grieves my heart so

You cannot go with me

Oh no my son no

For your waist is to slender

Your fingers to small

And your cheeks are to tender

To take the cannon-ball

They will give me shiny medals

They’ll call «the killing brave»

But I’d rather hold my darling son

Then fill a thousand graves