The Little Tin Soldier

And the little tin soldier molds in his hand
And the little tin soldier molds in his hand

He is to carry the truth of command
From mountain to mountain
from shoreline to sand.

And the little tin soldier molds in his hand
And the little tin soldier molds in his hand

And the thunder clouds gather up in the sky
Looks like the angels are about to cry.

And the little tin soldier molds in his hand
And the little tin soldier molds in his hand

The Colonel, the Major, the Captain, wax stern
Giving, their orders, obeying in turn.

And the little tin soldier molds in his hand
And the little tin soldier molds in his hand

And questions are pondered as hearts cry for rest,
battles that tear at humanity's breast.

And the little tin soldier molds in his hand
And the little tin soldier molds in his hand

The cruelest and hardest of any man's task
Is to follow these orders that others have asked.

And the little tin soldier molds in his hand
And the little tin soldier molds in his hand

And the gravest of all things there must be to recall
Is the fact these decisions must be decided at all.

September 4, 1970
By Linda A. Copp ©