Little Boy Soldiers. The show. Lyrics and Music copyright 2014 Anthony Francis Cummings. All rights reserved.
A WIND THAT BLOWS.
Our future now bereft of all time
These lives were ours to give
Beneath the skies of this shackled land
We strive to offer you freedom
They call us warriors of God and Kings
But are we not just flesh and blood
Our mothers shed tears of mourning
As each one of us stumble and falls
The wind that blows shall kiss your face
From the boys that heard your calling
A gentle reminder that we were once here
Lost voices from England's fallen
The bugler plays to us, one last time
His rallying call at sunrise
We march together against its cold chill
The wind that blows from the skies
Weep not for the lives that were lost here
Or the harrowing sights we have seen
We are Manchester Pals bound together in death
Our spirits retained by your dreams
The thirst of the poppy seems unquenchable
Our links to your world, we must sever
Quiet wind that blows across these fields
Shall whisper our names forever
Joyous pride that I fought alongside them
Into hell we marched shoulder to shoulder
Pray our long silent voices shall not be forgotten
God's army of Little Boy Soldiers.
Private George Arthur Cummings.
Montauban. Western Front. France 1916.