The Wounded Soldier's Lot is Sad by George Craig

The wounded soldier's lot is sad,
In tattered clothing he is clad.
Bleeding from the bullet holes
Where are his dreams, where are his goals?

Coming home is quite a deal,
Is this agonising pain for real?
Ignored and shamed, does he feel lost?
Will they send him back to his post?

Doctors, nurses stitch him well
But mental anguish he must quell
Loved ones gone, he is forsaken
Facing storm and grief a making.

Comrades come and then they go
Why is love and peace so slow
To come to him who served us well
He may now think it's holy hell.

Music stops and laughter gone
He sits at home all alone,
Sombre thoughts invade his mind
Could someone come for love to find?

In desperate days all that follow,
He finds a mate and is aglow
His life returns to former glory
Sadness gone without a worry.

George Craig

2010 ©

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