Young Scotty was stricken at twenty-two
Though he never knew he was hurt or sick
He opted to join the Marines at eighteen
Another branch or service he wouldn’t pick
So strong and proud he was a soldier
Among the best and bravest we had
He learned quickly and did his best
Especially to eliminate those who were bad
He volunteered for nearly every campaign
Rising quickly from rank to rank
He never shied away from the terror of war
Even in those places evil and dank
Yet his life did end so sadly
He was merely helping children in a square
Had he known that sadistic fanatics were present
No doubt he still would have been there
Without much warning the bombers struck
Unleashing explosions among the helpless
He did his best to shield as many as he could
Yet even he couldn’t stop the mess
In the end they had been very ruthless
And killed poor Scotty and a hundred others
Though war can excuse killing among young soldiers
How can they justify murdering their sisters and brothers?
