I went to visit you today
At your gravesite far away
From the homeland where you were born
And where your body was shot and torn.
The graveyard was deathly still;
The awesome silence near rended me ill;
Your small voice I never did hear;
Just deafening silence captured my ears.
There wasn't much that I could say.
You shouldn't be dead! You should be at play!
The graveyard is no proper place
For a three-year-old child with an innocent face.
But like many innocent lambs,
Slaughtered while no one gave a damn,
You went to the Father and are secure;
A wee small angel with a charming demure.
