(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.