Song of the Martyrs

Remember remember March the twenty-third,

Remember the martyrs, the boys that were,

Born they were in distress and plight,

In shadows and chains, in a nation that cried,

They made a promise, a holy vow,

Holier than jihad, holier than cow,

United they stood in their belief,

Their blood would be spilled for nation's relief,

At an age when we fool around, goofing and drinking,

They starved and fought oppressors unthinking,

Where we think of luxury, of comfort, of opulence,

Their thoughts were fixed on the nation's independence,

Where we are reluctant to part with our possessions,

They gave their all, for the cause of their nation,

Remember remember March the twenty-third,

Remember the martyrs, the boys that were,

They dreamt of a nation, united and free,

Their dreams lay trampled in a heap of debris,

The tunnel goes on with no end, no light,

The nation they dreamt of is nowhere in sight,

The nation still cries, the tears have dried,

It cries for those heroes, the ones that have died,

For they were lucky, those that have gone,

They never would witness the mess we've wrought

We are the seed, the fruits of their blood,

We the degenerates, the sickened, the crooks,

And today we honour their sacrifice,

Their bravery, their memory,

With deceptions and lies,

Corruption and treachery,

Young and foolish, they might have seemed,

But they were more men than most men have been,

Fools they were, till the very end,

But better a noble fool, than a foul reverend,

Remember then, March the twenty-third,

Remember those martyrs, the boys that were...