Let them in, Peter

They are very tired

Give them couches where the angels sleep

And light those fires



Let them wake whole again

To brand new dawns

Fired by the sun not wartime's

Bloody guns



May their peace be deep

Remember where the broken bodies lie

God knows how young they were

To have to die

God knows how young they were

To have to die



So give them things they like

Let them make some noise

Give dance hall bands not golden harps

To these our boys



And let them love, Peter

For they've had no time

They should have trees and bird songs

And hills to climb



The taste of summer in a ripened pear

And girls sweet as meadow wind

With flowing hair



And tell them how they are missed

But say not to fear

It's gonna be alright

With us down here



Let them in, Peter

Let them in, Peter

Let them in, Peter