Behind the stones, there alone
One finds an army massing
And in the sand the Sidhe sing a requiem
For lives lost and lives unwilling
to go on

In the river, where young men quiver
One finds an army massing
And in the mist, of the falls, the Sidhe sing a requiem
For lives stolen and lives loath
to fight on

On the field where first light breaks,
Breezes blow like naught is wrong
And in the grasses and in the dew the Fay will sing along
To the sobbing of the Sidhe
For they know of the battle
And wish it not
to fight on

The moon rises and the soldiers run
Standing in the Midnight Sun
A rabbit hobbles onto the field
To hide in its earthen home
Its children safe inside its belly, waiting
to go on

The armies clash above
Souls drifting away for a fortnight plus-day
They know not for what they fight
Still they kill with such delight
And as the final night ends all warriors felled
Without the resolve
to fight on

Their blood mingles, friend and foe
Seeping into Earth below
And within the hole the claret dribbles
Into the rabbit giving birth; she looses the will
to go on

Her kits come, squealing with glee
In the new world cradling you and me
Their fur is not white, nor is it bright
It’s red as the meadow above
The red rabbits hop through the field
Their fur stained of cruor, though unlike many
The red rabbits have against all judgment
The will
to fight on

A constant reminder of
The ire and enmity our lands harbor
Though some will say when
The world has atoned
The red rabbit will be white again
Though until that time
The red rabbits hop along
Through the field and through the snow
Through the tears and sorrow sown
With vigor they spring forth forever with will
to go on

A single red rabbit
dies at dawn