Dead Man's Bay

A dead man on his dying day,
as he comes,
a frayed man walks into the fray.
With the beat of the drums,
and the horses bray,
as the bullets go hum,
at the Dead Man’s Bay.

Tomorrow’s too late,
today is the day,
the morning will haste,
at the Dead Man’s Bay.

At the heat of the rifle
and the spray of the gun,
at the prayer to Michael
tomorrow will come.
At the heat of the rifle,
and the spray of the gun,
remember these men,
at the Dead Man’s Bay.

Tomorrow’s too late,
today is the day,
the morning will haste,
at the Dead Man’s Bay.