gratefulLet them in, Peter
They are very tired
Give them couches where the angels sleep
And light those fires
Let them wake whole again
To brand new dawns
Fired with the sun, not wartime's
bloody guns
Make their peace be deep
Remember where the broken bodies lie
God knows how young they were
To have to die
Give them things they like
Let them make some noise
Give roadside bands, not golden harps
To these our boys
And let them love, Peter
'Cause they had no time
They should have trees and bird songs
And hills to climb
The taste of summer in a ripened pear
And girls sweet as meadow wind
With flowing hair
And tell them how they are missed
And say not to fear
It's gonna be allright
With us down here