I
What world is this that honours him whose trade it is to kill?
And makes that ancient shame the cause and the Maker’s Will?
From whence come strife and row and the pangs and grief of war?
If not from man’s ardent lust, that vile and rotten core
II
What world is this that sees peace as the goal of boorish fools?
But heaps the utmost praise on him who knows not God nor rules?
And in that world he takes the seat of highest worth and honour
But his purposed work, a work of blood, brings sorrow and disorder.
III
What world is this that fails to see the image of the Creator?
And thus divides man from man, this one against the other?
And as his gory numbers climb, so his fame and fortune rise
But in his cruel and deadly wake, the voice of children cries
IV
What world is this that reverenced greed and brands virtue a liar?
That makes vice its conduct code, with no thought for the other ?
This is a topsy-turvy world; what’s good is now made wrong
But to the Truth be ever true, for we'll sing the Victor’s song.