The Telegram
His mother was in the kitchen
There came a knock upon the door,
It was a policeman, with a telegram
She buckled to the floor.
Of course, she knew what it meant
But could scarce believe it true,
For every night, she'd prayed aloud
"Lord, see him safely through"
Her dearest boy, young and brave,
Sought glory overseas,
As he left for France she sobbed,
"Take care, come back to me"
But her dearest boy isn't coming home
For he had paid the price,
He fell out there on the front.
His future sacrificed.
Off he'd marched, with his pals,
heroes, every one.
Now they lay on Flanders fields,
Each a mothers son.
No victory parades for them,
No medals pinned to chests.
But never to be forgotten,
As with the Lord, they rest.
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