Innocence Died a Thousandth Death
She was the first of the age of innocence,
The hundredth overall,
Daily her father grieving
Came to talk to her on the wall
His little darling, dead with a rubber bullet
Symtom of those troubled times
Imperial British oppression,
Yet more British war crimes.
Innocence died a death that day,
A death that made no sense…
Today in Gaza far away
Is another slaughter of innocence
It has died a thousand deaths
In the forty odd years since.