Love Gone Wrong?

[Stephen Whiteside]

This is extremely rough, and I'll probably re-write extensively, but I thought I'd post it here now anyway.


Love Gone Wrong?

Stephen Whiteside 03.12.2012

Here is a song of a love gone wrong,
Of a love that could never be;
Of a village girl and a soldier boy
Who had travelled across the sea,

Away from his home, to a foreign land,
Where he fought in a mighty war,
Where he fell in love with a Belgian girl,
Who couldn't have offered him more.

For her eyes were bright, and her lips were sweet,
And her body was supple and slim.
She held him near, and she made it clear,
She would do anything for him.

Their love grew first with a mighty burst.
They were carefree days, and wild,
And they met for "English lessons" (they said),
For her parents watched their child.

But they got no rest as the parents pressed:
"Commit...or be on your way!"
And the boy was torn, and a doubt was born,
For he knew that he could not stay.

Family waited for him at home,
Friends, and a legal career,
For he'd studied at university,
And ambition, he too, held dear.

And so he boarded at last the ship
That would take him away from his love.
He continued to write through the long cold night
Of the soul, with the stars above.

The Southern Cross peeped from the ocean's edge.
Each day it rose slightly higher,
And the flames of the death of his doomed romance
Flew high, as a funeral pyre.

But I don't grieve for this love that died.
It means very little for me,
And I don't mourn for the soldier boy,
Returning across the sea.

He married in turn his sister's friend,
A love that was destined to last,
And he turned his back on his Belgian girl,
And the War, and the terrible past.

They had two girls, two daughters fair,
As he welcomed the old hum drum
And picked up life in the legal trade...
And one of these girls was my mum.

Yes, he was my grandpa. So life goes,
A world of revolving doors,
And as one chance falls silent and still,
Another one bellows and roars.

Yet still I think of the Belgian girl,
Sobbing softly across the sea,
And I hope that she has a grandchild, too,
Who feels pretty much like me.

[Heather]

Nice Stephen, and sad, and thoughtful.

Heather

[Stephen Whiteside]

Thanks, Heather.