Janet Dowd - John Condon Lyrics

Just a day, another day beneath the Belgian sun
Past grave on grave, row upon row, until I see the name, John Condon
Carved in stone, with harp and crwon, little crosses in the ground
And standing there, my silent prayer, is for a boy who died a soldier
Wee lad, who'll not grow old, heroes that don't come home
Here they lie in Belgian fields and Picardy

Just a recruit, in soldiers boots, from Irelands shores to here
This living hell, this Poelcapelle, where young men died like you, John Condon
And all around the harp and crown, the crosses in the ground
Stand up in proof, the bitter truth, the waste of youth that lies forgotten
Wee lad, who'll not grow old, heroes that don't come home
Here they lie in Belgian fields and Picardy

Instrumental Break

Now tell me John, 'fore I go on, what did you come here for?
With Irelands bold, your life untold, 14 years old, to die a soldier?
And all around, the harp and crown, the crosses in the ground
What cause was served, so undeserved
Heroes that don't come home, sing out, for all their souls
Here they lie, in Belgian fields and Picardy