His eyes are black and bags rest underneath them
His hands are shaking but his head is clear
The war cry beckons him and he must go
But what if he lost a leg, a shoulder a limb?

The days will turn to nights
And I'll probably stay up late
In fear he has gone
Oh, my dear, darling Tom

What has war done?
What good will it bring?
Give him back his freedom
Then, he will soar with his wings

He deserves to live
A life without deep stress
His hair is turning gray
Stop this horrid mess

Up on the trenches
You want him to lie
And then aim and fire
Probably kill and oh dear, maybe die

I hold my dear Tom in my soft lap
For years have to pass for us to reunite
Lost in fear and blood
Here he comes, oh horrid battle cry