[Intro: one war drum, the choir hums low] [Hook: commanding gravel male lead, the massive choir shouts every "Here!"] Fall in! (Here!) Barlow! (Here!) Cutter! (Here!) Dunn! (Here!) Hundred twelve went down in this field. Hundred eleven come Builder dug up Ellery for a model home and hauled him off in a truck Fall in! (Here!) We one short. Mr. Whitlock, you in luck [Verse 1: slow, commanding] Left us where we fell. No stones, no names. Then corn on our chests, then cows, then clay Then a man in a golf cart with a blueprint paved us under Hollow Creek Estates by May Hundred sixty Octobers, still, under your sprinklers, your hoops, and your mail Your boy shoots free throws on Corporal Greer. Your grill sits square on Private Hale But the thirty-first, the ground gets thin. That's the one night a soldier can stand And the spring they poured the model home, we felt the backhoe, every man It came up with Ellery in its teeth. Foreman crossed himself and looked around Threw him in the dumpster with the rebar, and the builder said, "Keep pourin'." Not a sound Not a word in the paper. Not a flag. Not a hymn. Not a sign That's alright. We keep our own book. Tonight we're callin' every name on mine [Hook] Fall in! (Here!) Barlow! (Here!) Cutter! (Here!) Dunn! (Here!) Hundred twelve went down in this field. Hundred eleven come Builder dug up Ellery for a model home and hauled him off in a truck Fall in! (Here!) We one short. Mr. Whitlock, you in luck [Verse 2: the war drums double] [Flow switch: triple-time, the march through the cul-de-sac] Left, left, left right left, past the minivan, the trampoline, the cobweb on the hedge Hundred eleven in rotted wool, bayonets catchin' the porch lights on the edge Moms holdin' phones up: "Damn, look at the buttons. Look at the mud. So real" Kid in a cardboard helmet saluted, and I saluted him back, heel to heel [Beat Switch: all drops to the choir hum and one war drum at the model home door, then everything slams back] Model home on the hill, right on the trench, porch light on, good candy out in a bowl Rang the bell with a bayonet. He came out in slippers with a drink and a face like a hole I unrolled the book and read it slow: "Whitlock, Gerald." Hundred eleven heads turned round And the man who poured us under concrete said it soft as a prayer. "Here." Then he went down [Verse 3: half-time, the choir hums under] Sunrise on Phase Two. Porch light still on. Door swingin'. Candy bowl full on the stairs Two slippers on the stoop, toes pointed at the field, at attention. Nobody in 'em. Nobody there Hundred twelve on the roll now. Ellery's still out in the landfill, but the line is whole Next October, step soft on Phase Two. We hear every footstep. We know every soul [Final Hook: full choir, the new man answers last] Fall in! (Here!) Barlow! (Here!) Cutter! (Here!) Dunn! (Here!) Hundred twelve went down in this field. Hundred twelve come Builder dug up Ellery for a model home, so now the builder's standin' there Fall in! (Here!) Whitlock! (Here.) Hundred twelve. Now we're square [Outro: the choir holds one low note, a war drum hits once, silence] [End]
0/500