Stale-mate (1971)

First move to you, so take your time,

The first bombs fall with a melancholy chime.
Choose your opening, please don't hurry;
A hundred men die-it's too late to worry.

Place your pawns in a nice straight line,
Mow them down, three at a time.
Clear the lot-what good fun,
I'm so sorry-was he your son?

On the board, black and white,
On the field, a sickening sight.
Calmly move the castle around,
As blinded men fall to the ground.

An interesting game, are you sure you'll win?

So many killed, no next of kin.

Oh, well done-that's a good move,

A thousand men you're sure to lose.

Now your opponent is in check,

A brand new tank, a flaming wreck.
Carefully move the king out of trouble,

A building collapses into smouldering rubble.

The game goes on, you're in a rut,

A mortar explodes in a soldier's gut.

Never mind, you'll get out of this,
That was another narrow miss.

Exploding shells, flying lead,

Troops with their uniforms turning red.
A bishop is cornered by the horde,

Sweep the fallen off the board.

More men fall, crushed like flies,
The knight is taken without a sigh.
Torn off limbs, suffering hell,
The generals laugh, it's going well.

Now there are hardly any pieces left,

The thunder of the battle turns them deaf.
Men stare at one another with a terrible hate,
The last one falls - it's stale-mate.

I. PETHER 3A