And then....... he grew old.
Posted: Tue Apr 15, 2014 9:11 am
Come all you young fellahs...you smooth talking guys
And take one more look at this man you despise
As you mock and you sneer and you call him a wimp
‘Cos his clothes are worn out and he walks with a limp.
Only bits of old string keep the boots on his feet
As he painfully bends for the scraps in the street
See the lines on his face and his old stubbled chin...
They still bear the scars that he carries within.
Yeah, c’mon you boys, you can laugh all you like.
When you’re riding the waves.. or your skateboard, or bike
Remember the price of the freedom you know
Has been paid by the man that you ridicule so.
That grey-haired old-timer was once young and strong
And he knew what was right, and he knew what was wrong.
There’d be stars in your eyes, there’d be sweat on your brow
If you spoke to him then as you speak to him now.
But the years are not kindly, they come and they go
And the cruel winds of time take their toll as they blow
Through the memories of battle, the dark halls of war
Where he still sees his mates being shot by the score.
He has not known a wife for these past twenty years
And his medals were pawned for his housing arrears.
Now he just bums along doing all that he can
For the lost and the outcast are his fellow man.
As the nightmare returns with his daily routine
So his mind wanders back to the places he’s been.
Then he re-lives the hell and the horrors once more
Now he wonders if you were all worth fighting for.
So lads, when you see some old man in the street
And he’s limping along with old boots on his feet
Just show some respect, for he’s worth more than gold
He fought for your freedom.... and then he grew old.
Rod Walford
And take one more look at this man you despise
As you mock and you sneer and you call him a wimp
‘Cos his clothes are worn out and he walks with a limp.
Only bits of old string keep the boots on his feet
As he painfully bends for the scraps in the street
See the lines on his face and his old stubbled chin...
They still bear the scars that he carries within.
Yeah, c’mon you boys, you can laugh all you like.
When you’re riding the waves.. or your skateboard, or bike
Remember the price of the freedom you know
Has been paid by the man that you ridicule so.
That grey-haired old-timer was once young and strong
And he knew what was right, and he knew what was wrong.
There’d be stars in your eyes, there’d be sweat on your brow
If you spoke to him then as you speak to him now.
But the years are not kindly, they come and they go
And the cruel winds of time take their toll as they blow
Through the memories of battle, the dark halls of war
Where he still sees his mates being shot by the score.
He has not known a wife for these past twenty years
And his medals were pawned for his housing arrears.
Now he just bums along doing all that he can
For the lost and the outcast are his fellow man.
As the nightmare returns with his daily routine
So his mind wanders back to the places he’s been.
Then he re-lives the hell and the horrors once more
Now he wonders if you were all worth fighting for.
So lads, when you see some old man in the street
And he’s limping along with old boots on his feet
Just show some respect, for he’s worth more than gold
He fought for your freedom.... and then he grew old.
Rod Walford
