My Tommy
My Tommy
My Tommy was a soldier, a big strong strapping lad,
A brave lad, ‘no one bolder’, the same as was his dad,
He joined because he wanted to, ‘My duty’. That he said,
My Tommy was among the thousands, of brothers who lay dead.
My Tommy loved his Mother and his Mother loved him so,
But Mothers didn’t have a say, in who could or couldn’t go,
And in his heart, my, ‘hero lad’, was set to ‘do his bit’,
And he was volunteering, ‘and that’s the end of it’.
My Tommy died upon that sand, my Tommy fought the fight,
He fought the fight for freedom, he fought with all his might,
My Tommy and his comrades died, all big brave soldier men,
And Widows then, and Mothers cried, – and never smiled again.
Mick.
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