I want to tell you a story,
About a man who came back from war,
To meet his son for the very first time,
At the tender age of four.
He’d been out to fight for our country,
While his wife had to stay back at home,
Walked around in lands far away,
With his army comrades they did roam.
Sent in to save our freedom
Our troops gone to lands overseas
In an effort to push back the enemy
with not very much expertise
She went to work in the factory
putting together ammunition
to help our troops in that country
and bring us all to fruition.
Then home she would go, and her son she would feed
with rations and make do and mend
While he fights with his friends for our country,
and hopes this war would come to an end.
The sirens would go, and the bombs they would drop
to the anderson shelter they fled
The sounds of the aircraft firing guns, they would pop
and drop ordnance above his small head.
“When is this going to end Mum?”
“Sometime I hope son, very soon.”
“It’s the 11th of November, and I heard a rumour
that they will all stop fighting by noon.”
The troops find a little red flower,
and the clock in the town starts to chime
They look around in the middle of no-mans land
and eleven o clock is the time.
It’s now very many years later
and we owe our soldiers a great debt
So we made them a very big promise
That we would never, ever EVER forget.
Brett Jackson (c) 2017 - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.