The Crest

I've nothing left to give you, but for one last thing I've saved

In the comer of the cellar look inside the iron chest

Bearing seven silver medals there lies wrapped a wooden crest

>From the father to the son

Like a bullet from a gun

Seven silver crosses hammered on a wooden one

The name on the last medal is a man I never knew

Though I bore his name and nature and his conscience as I grew

When they shipped him back from Passchendaele it was raining in his head

Not caused by any bullet but by the faces of the dead

>From the father to the son

Like a bullet from a gun

Seven silver crosses hammered on a wooden one

When the boys came home from Dunkirk Beach, the crest came down to me

And I served as stretcher bearer up the back of Italy

But I didn't slow a bullet or blow any flesh apart

My medal was a red cross that was strapped across my heart

From the father to the son

Like a bullet from a gun

Seven silver crosses hammered on a wooden one

Many decades later I have seen the bounty drop

We scattered those generations now we reap a ruined crop

The brains, the brawn, the beauty each in turn were sacrificed

And marked up with a plain cross like the suffering Jesus Christ

From the father to the son

Like a bullet from a gun

Seven silver crosses hammered on a wooden one

From the father to the son

Like a bullet from a gun

Seven silver crosses hammered on a wooden one

I wish that I could give you something fine and something proud

A history of stuggle to emancipate the crowd

But all I give's a blessing take the shield down to the sea

Sacrifice tradition and save your family

From the father to the son

Like a bullet from a gun

Seven silver crosses hammered on a wooden one

(repeat)