John Condon

Just a day, another day Beneath the Belgian sun Passed grave on grave, row upon row Until I see the name, John Condon Carved in stone with harp and crown Little crosses in the ground And standing there, my silent prayer Is for this boy who died a soldier Wee lad who’ll not grow old Heroes who don't come home Here they lie in Belgian fields And Picardy Just a recruit in soldiers’ blue From Ireland's shores to here This living hell, this Poelcapelle Where young men died like you, John Condon All around, the harp and crown The crosses in the ground Stand up and prove the bitter truth The waste of youth that lies forgotten Wee lad who’ll not grow old Heroes who don't come home Here they lie in Belgian fields And Picardy Now tell me John, ’fore I go on What did you come here for? With Ireland's bold, your life untold Fourteen 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