Dressed To Kill

I suppose you could say he was a common man

Son of the soil, born to the land

He was slow in his way of walking and talking

Slow to anger, a gentle giant man

But a scarlet coat with tartan ties

Lit a fire in a young man's eyes

He left his farm, dreams to fulfill

Came back as a soldier, dressed to kill

From that first day, he was made to feel inside

A need for glory, a soldier's pride

They filled his head with stories of wars

Of bygone battles where heroes fought and died

So with eager heart he learned his trade

To fight and kill with gun and blade

And the men he met he was soon to find

Were the kind to live - and die - beside

For the army needs its heroes

To fight and die and show no fear

But the medal they pinned on his chest

Was a cross too heavy to bear

When war came his thoughts soon changed

Now death, not glory, fear not fame

There was no-one here, no tellers of stories

No great leaders, no-one else to blame

A savage pain began to grow

In a blinding rage he charged the foe

No thoughts of pride as he heard men fall

No thoughts of honour - no thoughts at all

They said he was brave, his deeds were glorified

To kindle fire in others' eyes

But dead men's faces through nights without sleep

Exposed the truth that lay behind the 'hero' lie

So he hit the bottle hard and long

And he sold his medal, cast in bronze

For he knew that war would win in the end

While the myth of heroes shackles decent men