Daddy Used To March

Daddy used to march on a Sunday every year I remember holding his hand until he saluted and then I saw a tear "Something in my eye" was what he said "Now stand up straight and remember to bow your head. We must never forget those that died". And then the bugle played and the old men cried I couldn't understand why because he never explained Why so many had died and so many were maimed I didn't want to stay "Daddy, when does it end? I want to go home and play war with my friends" He looked down at me, I think something else was in his eye "In a minute son." Then more old men started to cry Daddy used to sing on a Sunday every year Sad old songs of courage, hope and fear There was medals and photo's and a letter from home And with something in his eye he said "Those days are now long gone" I didn't know about the things he'd done He wouldn't tell me, he said I was too young Too young to learn of how life can be Too young to be a victim of such memories And then I'd ask him if I could go out and play "I'm playing war with my friends, we're gonna win today" Then daddy said "Nobody wins in the game of war" But I wasn't listening as I ran out the door Daddy used to drink on a Sunday every year He would drink himself silly on whisky and beer "I drink to forget" was his excuse as he slurred "I need to make the nightmares a little more blurred" But I didn't believe him because I didn't know Of the ghosts that haunted him and where his mind would go And then on a Sunday my daddy was gone I heard mum saying "It went on too long" Now I'm older I finally understand About the forgotten hero that was my old man I hear them say history repeats itself I can believe that as so many are just left on the shelf Those that should care are still getting it wrong Because daddies are still singing the Hero's song Jane Shields