I was raised on a small farm
and led a simple life;
raised my wheat and
raised my beets
and led a simple life.
Kaiser Bill shed first blood.
I signed up for the fray;
dug my trench and
said my prayers
and lost my life away.
Our farm was gone by `33;
we moved to Calgary;
city bred
and city fed
the way it came to be.
Hitler was a bastard;
my country called on me;
went overseas
with knocking knees;
did what was asked of me.
We hit the beach at Dunkirk,
crawled up upon the shore;
cold and wet and
young and dumb,
I gave my life once more.
The world was laced in fear;
terror was its name.
Afghanistan!
I’ve got the jam
‘cause war’s a youngster’s game.
I was there but just a week
starting to catch my breath
when an IED
exploded me
and handed me my death.
And now I lay in the river bed;
catching cold, forever dead;
silent in the river bed.
Forever young in an oldsters grave
A soldier child in an old man’s grave.