The Soldier
Harvey Andrews
In a station in the city a British soldier stood
Talking to the people there if the people would.
Some just stared in hatred, and others turned in pain
And the lonely British soldier wished he was back home again.
"Come join the British Army!" said the posters in his town
"See the world and have your fun come serve before the Crown."
The jobs were hard to come by and he could not face the dole
So he took his country's shilling and enlisted on the roll.
For there was no fear of fighting, the Empire long was lost.
Just ten years in the army getting paid for being bossed.
Then leave a man experienced a man who's made the grade,
A medal and a pension some memories and a trade.
Then came the call for Ireland as the call had come before,
Another bloody chapter in an endless civil war.
The priests they stood on both sides the priests they stood behind.
Another fight in Jesus's name the blind against the blind.
The soldier stood between them, between the whistling stones,
And then the broken bottles that led to broken bones.
The petrol bombs that burnt his hands, the nails that pierced his skin
And wished that he had stayed at home surrounded by his kin.
The station filled with people the soldier soon was bored
But better in the station than where the people warred.
The room filled up with mothers with daughters and with sons,
Who stared with itchy fingers at the soldier and his gun.
A yell of fear a screech of brakes the shattering of glass.
The window of the station broke to let the package pass.
A scream came from the mothers as they ran towards the door,
Dragging children crying from the bomb upon the floor.
The soldier stood and could not move, his gun he could not use.
He knew the bomb had seconds and not minutes on the fuse.
He could not run and pick it up and throw it in the street,
There were far too many people there too many running feet.
"Take cover!" yelled the soldier, "Take cover for your lives!"
And the Irishmen threw down their young and stood before their wives.
They turned towards the soldier their eyes alive with fear,
"For God's sake save our children or they'll end their short lives here."
The soldier moved towards the bomb, his stomach like a stone.
Why was this his battle God? Why was he alone?
He lay down on the package and he murmured one farewell,
To those at home in England to those he loved so well.
He saw the sights of summer felt the wind upon his brow
The young girls in the city parks how precious were they now
The soaring of the swallow the beauty of the swan
The music of the turning world so soon would it be gone
A muffled soft explosion and the room began to quake.
The soldier blown across the floor his blood a crimson lake.
There was no time to cry or shout there was no time to moan,
And they turned their children's faces from the blood and from the bones.
The crowd outside soon gathered and the ambulances came,
To carry off the body of a pawn lost in the game,
And the crowd they clapped and cheered and they sang their rebel songs.
One soldier less to interfere where he did not belong.
And will the children growing up learn at their mothers' knees,
The story of the soldier who bought their liberty?
Who used his youthful body as the means towards the end,
Who gave his life to those who called him murderer not friend.
The song is reported to have been inspired by a true story of a soldier, Sergeant Michael G. Willets (apparently a Catholic), who sacrificed himself to save a young girl and a 4 year old boy from an IRA bomb and was killed when the bomb exploded. It really makes you think about how much all of us owe to all the soldiers who served in Ulster during the worst periods of conflict here and the sacrifices they all made. Of course the BBC, being the BBC, saw fit to show it's appreciation to these men by banning Andrews's song from the airwaves for a long time in case it provoked ill-felling among nationalists.
Image Hosting |
Video Hosting |
Myspace Games
