BOOT HILL *
No monuments nor flowers there amid the fields of cane,
No birds their song to fill the air, No trees to shield the rain.
We've watched these things through tear-dimmed eyes,
We've felt a sense of shame,
But now we see as time goes by,
We are really not to blame.
No, it's surely not the best,
No glory does it claim,
It's just the place where we laid them to rest,
Our friends who lost the game.