B. Ritter

Two children in the graveyard and the poppies on the ground
The breeze, it is blowing, B. Ritter sleeping sound
1926, to die on top
Before the great fall
Before the shoe dropped
Tame tortured soul in the valley of ash
Let the eggs crack where they will, let them roll or spill
B. Ritter had riches the privileged won’t ever see
Had two young boys, wife, family
1956, the child had grown
Hung his head in remembrance for his brother
His bones back from South Pacific, now he’s in the ground
Right next to B. Ritter, a father forever proud
One son remaining, only one thing to do
So he fathered his two boys and he taught 'em to shoot
Like his old man before him, like his brother had to do
And one day he stepped out and never returned
Two children in the graveyard and the poppies on the ground
The breeze, it is blowing, three Ritters sleeping sound
1996, to die on top
Before the great fall
Before the shoe dropped