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Robert W Service - The Home-Coming
Work rating: Medium

My boy`s come back; he`s here at last;
He came home on a special train.
My longing and my ache are past,
My only son is back again.
He`s home with music, flags and flowers;
With peace and joy my heart`s abrim;
He got here in the morning hours
With half the town to welcome him.

To hush my grief, night after night,
How I have digged my pillow deep,
And it would be the morning light
Before I sobbed myself to sleep.
And how I used to stare and stare
Across the harbour`s yeasty foam,
Thinking he`s fighting far out there . . .
But now with bells my boy`s come home.

There`s Mrs. Burke, she has her Ted,
But less the sight of his two eyes;
And Mrs. Smith - you know her Fred -
They took his legs off at the thighs.
How can these women happy be,
For all their bravery of talk,
One with a son who cannot see,
One with a boy who`ll never walk.

I should be happier than they;
My lad came back without a scar,
And all the folks are proud they say,
To greet their hero of the war.
So in the gentle eventide
I`ll give God thanks my Bert`s come home. . . .
As peacefully I sit beside
His tiny mound of new-turned loam.
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