In a place where wheat fields reach up towards the sky
One must wonder how so many died
Where grain grows as far as the eye can see
A Famine occurred but how can this be?
In a land that once boasted Hetman health
Strangled to death by its natural wealth
Fertile plains and endless steppes bleeding
The lives of its peasants brutally ceasing
Wise Kobzars no longer able to sing
Nor to pluck their woeful strings
Not able to tell of the horrors they had learned,
No longer having their voices heard
Thirty-Three oh that dreadful year!
Forced upon a people who only dreamed
Women, children, and men
Dying of hunger and of fear
The result of rampant collectivization
Triggered by that stoic Communist nation
Impossible gain quotas set to fill
To complete a five-year plan that would only kill
Silos filled with grain to feed the lands three times fair
Sold to flood those markets bare
Bought by capitalists who did not care
To how they (Soviets) formed that five-year plan...
Intelligentsia martyred or sent far far away
To distant lands where abhorrent conditions lay
Rights denied, livelihoods stolen Only causing more grief and more eerie filled sorrowing
Children weeping, mothers sobbing
Such pain, such sadness constantly pounding
In the hearts of those few who had survived
The lives that their brethren were unjustly denied
But is there no one on this earth who hears?
No, not the cruel Stalinist regime
But what of the new found democratic powers?
No, the truth was distorted and set afire!
Was there any chance of distant aid?
No, only denial and betrayal came
Borders sealed tight to all dismay
Trains filled with grain tumed away!
All that is heard is the deafening silence
Of the murdered souls that are rising to judgment
Souls that committed no crime, but only wanted to live
In a place where Muscovite tyranny chose to give
But is there no justice; is there no help near?
No, only the greatest liar of any man one has ever seen!
Could have saved millions, exposed a regime!
Instead he opted to aid in Stalin's treacherous dream...
But he got his prize nonetheless;
Awarded a Pulitzer to signify him best
Reporting a tragedy that did not exist
Telling the world it was only a myth!
Millions perished and no one listened
As many as seventeen deaths per minute...
Still to this day there are some that deny
They would rather have this horrible truth die!
The tragedies of Auschwitz, all have heard
But when will the Holodomor get its turn?
A Genocide it was, an engineered act!
But who has admired to this gruesome fact?
Some have, yet still some governments disapprove
To give memory, because some refuse
They would rather be politically correct
And not anger or strain relations intact!
In the end, for every crime there is a price to pay
But what then is theirs, will fate ever say?
Rich fields turned into Stalks of Death by a barbarous savage
But to his dismay Ukraine was never dead.
His aim was to crush the minds of an oppressed population
He forgot that these were the remnants of that great Cossack nation!
Khmelnytsky and Mazepa would stand proud
Their people's faith still not dampened, still alive!
He thought his plan would their faiths depress,
But they survived his Stalks of Death!