(Brooker)



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.