I suppose you could say he was a common man
Son of the soil, born to the land
He was slow in his way of walking and talking
Slow to anger, a gentle giant man
But a scarlet coat with tartan ties
Lit a fire in a young man's eyes
He left his farm, dreams to fulfill
Came back as a soldier, dressed to kill
From that first day, he was made to feel inside
A need for glory, a soldier's pride
They filled his head with stories of wars
Of bygone battles where heroes fought and died
So with eager heart he learned his trade
To fight and kill with gun and blade
And the men he met he was soon to find
Were the kind to live - and die - beside
For the army needs its heroes
To fight and die and show no fear
But the medal they pinned on his chest
Was a cross too heavy to bear
When war came his thoughts soon changed
Now death, not glory, fear not fame
There was no-one here, no tellers of stories
No great leaders, no-one else to blame
A savage pain began to grow
In a blinding rage he charged the foe
No thoughts of pride as he heard men fall
No thoughts of honour - no thoughts at all
They said he was brave, his deeds were glorified
To kindle fire in others' eyes
But dead men's faces through nights without sleep
Exposed the truth that lay behind the 'hero' lie
So he hit the bottle hard and long
And he sold his medal, cast in bronze
For he knew that war would win in the end
While the myth of heroes shackles decent men.
Son of the soil, born to the land
He was slow in his way of walking and talking
Slow to anger, a gentle giant man
But a scarlet coat with tartan ties
Lit a fire in a young man's eyes
He left his farm, dreams to fulfill
Came back as a soldier, dressed to kill
From that first day, he was made to feel inside
A need for glory, a soldier's pride
They filled his head with stories of wars
Of bygone battles where heroes fought and died
So with eager heart he learned his trade
To fight and kill with gun and blade
And the men he met he was soon to find
Were the kind to live - and die - beside
For the army needs its heroes
To fight and die and show no fear
But the medal they pinned on his chest
Was a cross too heavy to bear
When war came his thoughts soon changed
Now death, not glory, fear not fame
There was no-one here, no tellers of stories
No great leaders, no-one else to blame
A savage pain began to grow
In a blinding rage he charged the foe
No thoughts of pride as he heard men fall
No thoughts of honour - no thoughts at all
They said he was brave, his deeds were glorified
To kindle fire in others' eyes
But dead men's faces through nights without sleep
Exposed the truth that lay behind the 'hero' lie
So he hit the bottle hard and long
And he sold his medal, cast in bronze
For he knew that war would win in the end
While the myth of heroes shackles decent men.
envoyé par Alessandro - 28/9/2009 - 20:31
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Incisa da Dick Gaughan in "Clan Alba" (1995)