In South Africa during the Boer War
Granddad got the key
of the door
In France during World
War 1
He lay wounded when
the day was done
He could have met a
very bloody end
But for the bravery of
his friend
So he lived to fight
another day instead
And died an old man in
his own bed
When the sun is in the west
You will safely go to
rest
At the setting of the
sun
With your soldiers
duties done
You will feel your God
is nigh
As you ascend up to
the sky
And in earths fading
light
Where tears diminish
sight
Where loved ones
question why
A new star will grace
the sky
Gleaming bright in the
firmament
Proudly amongst the
regiment
To mark the passing of
a soldier son
Who died not seeing
victory won
Now the time that
moves us most
The plaintive lament
of the last post
For those falling
fighting foes
Heads bow as the bugle
blows
Like many Englishmen
When our history is
revealed
My forebears shed
their blood
Men who never thought
to yield
On the battlefields of
England
And on many a foreign
field
If the wings travel faster than the fuselage,
And you are in a
helicopter, that’s ok
However, if you are in
any other aircraft
It’s probably a very
good time to pray
The landscape changed
From peace to bloody
war
A hellish muddy
landscape
Those men had to
endure
And when war was ended
The living had moved
on
The dead remained on
parade
To forever guard the
Somme
The landscape changed
From bloody war to
peace
A sombre mark of the
passing
Of those who fell before
the cease
Serried ranks of white
crosses
Marking those who
stayed
To be forever
remembered
These fallen comrades
on parade
A wondrous pastoral scene
Green fields and
meadows
Woodland and hedgerows
Unchanged for
centuries
A beautiful place, a
safe place
Then came war’s unkind
caress
Which swept away the
green
Repainted the pastoral
scene
In shades of brown
And turned everything
to mud
Tree trunks devoid of
branches
Stood like rows of
rotted teeth
In the mouth of hell
The fetid stench of
detritus
Filled the air
All this did Flanders
endure
The blood, the mud,
the tears
For four long years
Now another kinder
hand
Has touched the land
And colour has
returned
From the paint box of
peace
Before the Kaiser came
Swallows fed on the
wing
Above green meadows
Butterflies danced on
the breeze
And birdsong filled
the copses
Then the Kaiser came
And no longer did
birds sing
Mud filled the meadows
Gunfire echoed on the
breeze
And rats fed on the
corpses
