Called up to Camberley in '39
To play his part
On the French front line
He was full of hope,
Overflowing with tears
He'd been on the earth
Barely nineteen years
But he was willing
Sailed across the Channel
For to meet his foe
Marched from Le Havre
To Forge-les-Eaux
There were sounds of battle
That assailed his ears
They moved that night with
The taste of fear
To the killing
Got dug down in Deauville
His young life on the line
Had time to think about her
His first love he'd left behind
The battle lost
At heavy cost
To life and limb
But not for him
He was caught
And marched away
To darker days
A prisoner
He walked to Poland
With thousands of others
Their common plight
Would make them brothers
For years of cold and fear
And lonely tears
For four long years
The Allies came
To liberate
They found him in rags
In a pitiful state
But alive
Taken at the very start
Not freed until the last
Lest we forget the sacrifice
That young men make for what seems right
We lose them
Confuse them
Abuse them
Young rose waiting on the English shore
To hold her boy, now a man of twenty-four
Hard of hearing, no feeling
What do we know of pain and healing?
Hard of hearing, hard of hearing.
