The Brave Warrior
By Richard Mabey Jr.
When the news came you were just seventeen,
not a whimper, not a sound,
that your brother Edward had not been seen,
and there was little hope, he’d be found.
For Edward’s ship had suffered attack,
by a German fleet.
Sadly, there was little hope he’d come back,
to the love of home, o’ so sweet.
And Dad, you went down to the big hall,
in downtown Paterson,
to sign up, to give it his all,
Watson and Bertha’s teenage son.
How you ever convinced them,
I’ll never know,
you were their shining gem,
for they loved you so.
Your father hated war so very much,
for he never did heal,
his pain was such
that no angel could steal.
Your mother cried so dearly,
when you left for basic training,
and surely and clearly,
she prayed your uniform be free of blood’s staining.
O’ my dear, good father,
you served our country so very well,
for you couldn’t have gone any farther,
to be the good soldier, ringing freedom’s bell.
And now I look back,
at your stories told,
of the horror’s of enemy attack,
stories that have never grown old.
O’ dear father, dear dad,
my hero, true and brave.
The nights now are so sad,
your stories, in my mind I save.
You came home safe from the war,
your angel protected you well,
and never again did you ever roam far,
from the ringing of church bell.
O’ Daddy, proud soldier,
you fought so hard and gave your all,
dug deep to overcome the fear,
and proudly came home, standing tall.