I gave you hands to hunt, legs to mount;
The unicorn and the beaver, not upon each other.
For strength prevail, and unity much more avail;
When you strike one chord but thy doom in discord.
O my children! My poor children! today I call you,
To my bedside; with a song from the riverside.
Come, clad in peace, your prayer of vengeance,
Your cry of despair, and curses I'll not hear.
On hate where you lie, you decide who lives or die
And claim to stand for peace of all?
By morning you give your bodies weapons for war.
On flowers battles won, the butterflies are gone.
I many times hope you pray for peace among nations
And find it in strength not in face of death.