on the fourth day of November
in the year of the storm
she gave her one way ticket to the man
and got on board
on an empty seat next to her a newspaper
headline read
stray round, crowded market
shopkeepers, children

while the men in high office line the pockets of their own
Flag draped coffins carry the fallen home

her money ran low she worked the floor
at the last stop restaurant
where she met a young man just
back from the war front
he told her of the things he’d seen and done
while over there
he said I’ll never be the same except maybe my name
and I live the nightmare

while the men in high office line the pockets of their own
flag draped coffins carry the fallen home

she told him how her father had gone off and
said I’ll be home soon
how she laid awake in the night and prayed
until she got the news
twenty one guns don’t help you none
when your world has been shattered
he was the man such a tender man
tell me what could be sadder

while the men in high office line the pockets of their own
flag draped coffins carry young fallen home

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