Dead Deputy

When winters thirst comes to close, And Fighting Birds have no home, The young man looks to stars, Sometimes wishing of a land freed from harm, But when the dead comes to life and living become weary, What must they do now that they have become hungry, As time goes by their numbers grow, What else do should the living know? Well, the young man, now old and weary, Has become fond of growing, And with no stars to his delight, where might there be a feast fit for a heart's delight