Reflections of War
‘Can we no go by car?’ he said up to his Da,
‘Mr Johnson has one at the mill.
Or we’ll use Johnny’s horse, oh we’ll ask him of course,
coz it’s never no fun on the train, Da, it’s never no fun on the train.'
'Perhaps we can walk, on the way we can talk
and I’ll carry my Mickey Mouse mask.
If you say that we could, then I vow I’ll be good
but I don wanna go on tha train, Da, please don make me go on tha train.'
'Stop pulling me so, coz I don wanna go
and I don like the smell of the steam.
And the men in this place have tha look on their face
and I don wanna be on this train, Da, I don wanna be on this train.'
'There’s no place to sit and I don’t seem to fit
with the giants of men with tha stare.
And the smell of the war and the blood and the gore
is right here in the heart of this train, Da, there’s only the sad on this train.'
'The smell of the fags and the blood sodden rags
Fill my lungs with the stink of the war.
And the horrible stench of the mud from a trench
has no place on a homecoming train, Da, there’s no laughter here on this train.'
'I know that you say it’s a wonderful day
and the bells of the churches ring peace.
But the tears of these men whisper ‘never again’
And they don wanna be on this train, Da, there’s memories of hell on this train.'
A soldier looked down and he softened his frown and he said, 'little boy can’t you see?
This train is no more than reflections of war so a place where no soul wants to be.
The clickety-clack of the wheels on the track are the echoes of guns from afore,
and the steam is the breath of the souls facing death and the wounds are the postcards of war.
The heat of the coal is the pain in their soul and the highway to hell is the track,
and it shatters a heart to see friends torn apart and to know that there’s no coming back.
So don’t judge the men who will never again see the world through two innocent eyes.
But pause for a thought that they marched and they fought and they died for political lies.
And think of the brave as they sleep in their grave where the sod is relief from the pain,
and just realise as you pray to the skies,
...that NO ONE should be on this train, boy, there’s NO place on Earth for this train.'