A child's heart-felt cry,
Is heard beyond the murmurings,
Of the mourners who pray,
And ask for patience,
A sad day it is today,
A spiritual leader has gone,
Blown up by blood thirsty murderers,
An old crippled man was he,
Who only told his people,
Not to give up their land,
Not to sell their souls,
To the tank invaders,
Who shell bombs on innocent homes,
With children sleeping at night,
Who taste death in their beds,
And men are taken to jails,
And disappear forever,
For the sin of being human,
Born in the holy city,
In the Land of Palestine,
Sheikh Ahmed Yasin did not die,
T'was only his body blown up,
Into tiny pieces,
His wheelchair flung among rubble,
But his soul lives on,
In the Muslim world,
And many Ahmed Yasins will be born,
To protect their land,
And families,
From the hounds of Israel.