Gulf Memo

Tell me the way to the wedding Tell me the way to the war, Tell me the needle you’re threading I won’t raise my voice anymore. And tell me what axe you are grinding Where the boy on the bivouac believes, What reel you are unwinding For the girl in her bed who grieves. While behind a derrick’s girder He watches the sinking sun, He asks what he’ll do for murder And what he will do for fun. Will you read him the ways of war His Miranda rights in sin, Will you tell him what to ignore When he studies your discipline? He dozes off—but he shakes In a dream that he is the one Death finds abed and wakes Just as the night is done. Tell me what boats go ashore Riding the oil-dimmed tide, Red streamers and black in store For the boy with a pain in his side. And tell me where they are heading Tonight; now tell me the score. Tell me the way to their wedding I won’t raise my own voice anymore.