Dead Soldiers Wives Dont Dance

See them marching to the railway in their uniforms and boots,
Self-conscious with their rifles, they’re the army’s new recruits.
Wives, already distant, see their husbands’ awkward stance,
But we cheered them into carriages and sang them off to France,

The day before they left we had a party in the hall,
With dancing to the parish band and plenty beer for all.
The country needs you, lads, we said, we’re proud of everyone,
We’ll build a land that’s fit for heroes on the day you all come home.

There’s no music on a battlefield except for pipes and drums,
That tells you when it’s time to charge and man the Lewis gun.
There’s no music on a battlefield save that which says advance,
And at the village victory ball, dead soldiers’ wives don’t dance.

The say they charged and conquered there, and to a man they stood,
Some crouched and bent like beggars, but giving all they could.
Some mad with thirst, some mad with pain, some crushed beneath the sand,
Some blind, some lame, some just insane, some lost in no-man’s land.

And death poured down from Heaven, and it roared across the ground,
Its stench in every nostril, its voice in every sound.
And he who seemed the strongest wept like a stricken child,
Betrayed in godless trenches, abandoned and defiled.

Dead Soldiers’ Wives Don’t Dance
© W. J. Adair/Sad Jeb Music 2011

Music and lyrics are the copyright of Bill Adair. You may use the songs and you may print the lyrics in order to learn them but you may not reproduce any of this material in written, printed or recorded form, online or offline, for any other purpose than your own personal use without permission from the copyright owner. The use of any of the content, written or recorded, for any commercial or profitmaking purpose online or offline is totally prohibited.

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