no record

Just a lad of sixteen years
He heard the call of war
With his pals and few fears
His courage in great store

Joining in the pals brigade
Kitchener’s bold idea
With village battalions made
With friends they’ll show no fear

So the boys with all their friends
Would not let their pals down
March to the bullets flesh can’t defend
To met in deaths dark gown

He was the last of his town
All the others had died
The final push he broke down
In disgrace he sobbed and cried

The court said it was cowardice
Orders he had refused
With no appeal or redress
For a broken mind abused

Marched to the firing squad
No blindfold to wear
Rejected the priestly word of god
Bravely standing there

Shot by the troops of his side
The orders of disgust
The firing squad later cry
For their breach of trust

On the war memorial cross
In the village square
The names of all the village loss
But one name was not there