Father, father
I'm setting off to war.
Father, father
I've heard the lads talk.
My son, my son
It isn't fun and games.
My son, my son
I've seen men come home lame.
Father, father
Glory and honour.
Father, father
Will be rained upon us.
My son, my son
You are far too young.
My son, my son
You've never held a gun.
Father, father
I'm seventeen now.
Father, father
I will not back down.
My son, my son
Please, do not go.
My son, my son
There's so much you don't know.
Father, father
You cannot stop me going.
Father, father
I'll go without you knowing.
Dear sir, dear sir
Your son is coming home.
Dear sir, dear sir
But there's something you should know...
Dear son, dear son
You should have listened to me.
Dear son, dear son
At least now you're free.
YOU ARE READING
Pulvis et Umbra
Poetrywe write our stories on the silver black clear canvasses of our lives these are my stories i build them so you can relate and perhaps we won't be so alone *** "I really love these poems. They help me find myself in worlds where there is no one lef...
