We were exhausted as we
rode along the mountain pass,
the Afghan sun had taken
it's toll on both
man and beast.

for four days
we had ridden hard
for peace was at hand,
and we must not fail
at this meeting of the tribes.

our hearts sank
when we came across
the burnt sticks
scattered across the our path,
for we knew full well
the message of the sticks.

a warning!, go no further,
for changes had taken place
amongst the tribes and
we were no longer welcome,
any resolution to the conflict
was now doomed to failure.

dejected and weary
we turned away,
our mission was ended and
it was four days ride
back to Kabul and,
here , here in the mountains
the blood would soon run.