My mother has been reworking this old sermon, which unfortunately never seems to become obsolete. Sometimes it's theraputic to consider war for the evil that it is:

FOUR HORSEMEN, THE

(Chanted Sermon by Rev. Rubin Lacy
Bakersfield, California - 1967
Adapted by Dahlov Ipcar © 1974
Further adapted by Charlie Ipcar, 1993)


They tell me in the morning,
When the horses come out the door,
They'll be standing there a-waiting,
To see the generals they been fighting for.

First come a rider on a red horse,
His armor shining in the sun,
A flaming sword in his hand,
His helmet a Gatling-gun –
The face of War.

Under his horse's hoofs,
The dead and dying,
Trampled in the sand,
Bodies torn by grenades,
Shattered by shrapnel,
Rot in no man's land –
But with visions of victory in their eyes.

Refrain:

And I hear a voice a-crying,
"Is that the general we been fighting for?"
And I hear a voice answer,
"Yes, that's the general you been fighting for."

Next come a rider on a black horse,
His body all covered with sores,
Reeking of gangrene,
From his nose and ears blood pours –
The face of Pestilence.

Under his horse's hoofs,
The sick and the dying,
People too weak to crawl,
Bodies wracked with pain,
Vomiting black blood,
For mercy they do call –
The madness of fever in their eyes.

Refrain:


Then, out come a rider on a white horse,
His body all covered with flies,
Thin and gaunt and haggard,
Rotting teeth and bloodshot eyes –
The face of Famine.

Under his horse's hoofs,
Children with swollen bellies,
Pipestem arms and legs;
Across the blackened fields,
Mothers with outstretched hands,
For bread and water beg –
The madness of starvation in their eyes.

Refrain:

At last, come a rider on a pale horse,
His body but a rack of bone,
Slashing a scythe left and right,
Eyes like balls of fire in a head of stone –
The face of Death.

And under his horse's hoofs,
Desolation and destruction,
On the face of the earth;
Gravestones and dry bones crackling,
Black ashes swept up in the wind,
None left to mourn or curse –
The madness of another great victory.

Refrain:

And I hear a voice a-crying,
"Is that the general we been fighting for?"
And I hear another voice answer,
"Yes, that's the general you been fighting for."

Oh, Lord, let me go!
I can't make war no more;
Oh, Lord, let me go home in peace!
I seen the generals we been fighting for.

Charley Noble