The War Doesn’t Care
I’m probably the most unlikely opera participant since Bugs Bunny in old Warner Brothers cartoons. But here I am writing a libretto for one composed by my friend and Chicago Summer Opera co-founder Codrut Birsan. I just knocked off these lyrics for an aria which will be sung by a Romanian soldier in the trenches of World War I. But it applies to any war, anytime– including the Iranian boondoggle by Donald Quixote in the White House.
The War Doesn’t Care by John Duggleby © 2026
Nobody cares if you’re forty-five, or just turned seventeen We’ll come for you before we’re through, and each lad in between Nobody cares if you’re ailing, in your body or your head It doesn’t really matter, ‘cause soon you’ll wind up dead
The draft board doesn’t care The mayor doesn’t care The King and Queen don’t care And most of all, the war doesn’t care
Nobody cares if you’re a husband, a father, loving son You’ll be another murderer once we give you a gun Nobody cares about your race, your color or your creed Everybody looks the same when they begin to bleed
The enemy doesn’t care Your country doesn’t care The history books don’t care And most of all, the war doesn’t care
But if you have the money, you may just be all right Each conflict is a rich man’s war, and each a poor man’s fight Those who gain power and riches, don’t count the lives they spend The cycle never changes, and the wars will never end
The banker doesn’t care The general doesn’t care The graveyard doesn’t care And most of all, the war doesn’t care