He wasn't very big
And he wasn't very strong
But he fought for his country
Be it right or wrong,
Little more than a child as he handled a gun,
And his parents prayed for their only son.
Over the country the battle raged on
And his parents prayed for their only son,
They longed to take him by the hand,
Away, from that horrible war-torn land,
Although he was wounded he fought on still
The shots rang out over valley and hill.
But his comrades found him,
Stiff and cold,
The bullet scarred body
Of the brave and the bold
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.