BOY SOLDIER
The night before the early morning still to come
Orders to be carried out, before the true light of day
When we hear that whistle blow, the officers say
Over the top lads, let’s be at ‘em this fine day
Little to do now but write last wills and letters home
That we hope no one will ever have to read
Old veterans, many still so young in years
Know that there is nothing that they can do but pray
That the artillery have done their job
Cleared the mines and barbed wire out of our way
New recruits just sent up to reinforce the line
They seem to be having a far tougher time
In a corner a young man sits, back against a wall
Drops his head into his hands and begins to cry
There’s no shame in that. We’ve all been there at some time
When I get closer, look beneath the uniform
I see, not a man, but a frightened young boy
Crying for the mother that he wishes he could now hold
He tells me that he will be sixteen years old tomorrow
And I need to know, what made him walk through a recruitment office door
Lie about his age, Tell them that he wanted to go to war
At first his words are like the rest, always the same
To fight for his King and country, do his duty
Make his family proud of him, like all the posters tell you to do
But listen a little longer, to the truth once he’s ran out of patriotic lies
A drunken father who at last saw him as a man
A tearful mother who tells him he is still her little boy
A young boy’s dreams that life will soon shatter
The chance of an adventure, to become a hero
One less hungry mouth at home to be fed
From a kitchen table with little more than water and bread
Army rations, at least he will get some food today
Army pay, he’s sending money back home whenever he can
A uniform, a girl he wanted to impress, hoping one day to undress
With jet black raven hair, soft skin that he wants to caress
A boy now frightened that it will all too soon be his turn to die
The sounds and lights of the breaking morning dawn
Were none that God ever intended any man to ever see
Had the night time bombardments done their job, cleared our path
No, but we still charged as ordered till only our screams filled the air
And suddenly, it was over, only that unholy silence left in the air
We had won our prize, then we started to count our dead, realise the cost
Of more dirt and mud to call our own in a foreign field that had no name
What of the birthday boy who bravely charged at my side this morn
Enemy machine gun-fire cut down his all too short a life
This was his last dawn and he will now lie forever far from home
Far from the mother who he just wanted one more time to hold
Never to know his sweetheart’s kiss, or her soft skin to caress
When she finally gets the news his mother will cry until her tears run dry
His drunken father will raise a glass to his fallen hero son
Until the cheering stops and the free pints of ale run dry
I look at the dead, the wounded and those wishing they were soon dead
All around me as far as my eyes can see, a landscape fit for hell
And I try to tell God that I am sorry for what I have done today
But can even God forgive us for what we have all become simply to survive another day
I look at those we are told are our enemy, like us they seem to get younger every day
Is this what we have come to now, killing our children before they become men
What do we do now then with our new found prize, guess what, no surprise
We get ourselves ready to defend another new line, knowing that all too soon
In another line ahead of us, they will try to reclaim another worthless prize.
Orders to be carried out, before the true light of day
When we hear that whistle blow, the officers say
Over the top lads, let’s be at ‘em this fine day
Little to do now but write last wills and letters home
That we hope no one will ever have to read
Old veterans, many still so young in years
Know that there is nothing that they can do but pray
That the artillery have done their job
Cleared the mines and barbed wire out of our way
New recruits just sent up to reinforce the line
They seem to be having a far tougher time
In a corner a young man sits, back against a wall
Drops his head into his hands and begins to cry
There’s no shame in that. We’ve all been there at some time
When I get closer, look beneath the uniform
I see, not a man, but a frightened young boy
Crying for the mother that he wishes he could now hold
He tells me that he will be sixteen years old tomorrow
And I need to know, what made him walk through a recruitment office door
Lie about his age, Tell them that he wanted to go to war
At first his words are like the rest, always the same
To fight for his King and country, do his duty
Make his family proud of him, like all the posters tell you to do
But listen a little longer, to the truth once he’s ran out of patriotic lies
A drunken father who at last saw him as a man
A tearful mother who tells him he is still her little boy
A young boy’s dreams that life will soon shatter
The chance of an adventure, to become a hero
One less hungry mouth at home to be fed
From a kitchen table with little more than water and bread
Army rations, at least he will get some food today
Army pay, he’s sending money back home whenever he can
A uniform, a girl he wanted to impress, hoping one day to undress
With jet black raven hair, soft skin that he wants to caress
A boy now frightened that it will all too soon be his turn to die
The sounds and lights of the breaking morning dawn
Were none that God ever intended any man to ever see
Had the night time bombardments done their job, cleared our path
No, but we still charged as ordered till only our screams filled the air
And suddenly, it was over, only that unholy silence left in the air
We had won our prize, then we started to count our dead, realise the cost
Of more dirt and mud to call our own in a foreign field that had no name
What of the birthday boy who bravely charged at my side this morn
Enemy machine gun-fire cut down his all too short a life
This was his last dawn and he will now lie forever far from home
Far from the mother who he just wanted one more time to hold
Never to know his sweetheart’s kiss, or her soft skin to caress
When she finally gets the news his mother will cry until her tears run dry
His drunken father will raise a glass to his fallen hero son
Until the cheering stops and the free pints of ale run dry
I look at the dead, the wounded and those wishing they were soon dead
All around me as far as my eyes can see, a landscape fit for hell
And I try to tell God that I am sorry for what I have done today
But can even God forgive us for what we have all become simply to survive another day
I look at those we are told are our enemy, like us they seem to get younger every day
Is this what we have come to now, killing our children before they become men
What do we do now then with our new found prize, guess what, no surprise
We get ourselves ready to defend another new line, knowing that all too soon
In another line ahead of us, they will try to reclaim another worthless prize.
All words, text, reviews, photographs and content copyright © Tom King 2020 unless otherwise noted and may not be reproduced in any form whatsoever without written consent.
"Boy Soldier" Copyright © Tom King 2022
"Boy Soldier" Copyright © Tom King 2022