Beneath the gloomy auburn sky
Neatly scattered, grave heads detached lie.
A hundred thousand, each wonders why.

Across the marred, desolate ground
Strut Japanese soldiers, faces browned.
They leave none of what they found.

They raise a brown cloud of soot and grime
And gunpowder. It veils the crime.
An infant, now in sweet sublime.

Inside the dusky buildings, Satan condones
Cries of fathers, daughters’ moans.
Atrocities he, only, knows.

Between the Yangtze’s burnt banks wide
More sedate faces swiftly glide.
No sympathy for those who tried.

The battle done, the warfare done
But she still stares down the barrel of a gun.
Life ends for her and her unborn son.

Beneath the gloomy auburn sky
Neatly scattered, grave heads detached lie.
A hundred thousand will never know why.