I knew of a soldier

Who whistled in the dark.

Who dealt us into games

With his pair of playing cards.

I remember his smile

When his wife sent him a letter.

When it came to her,

The tough guy was a beggar.

He made airplanes with papers

And shot them through the trench.

He had a funny accent,

I think that he was French.

I saw the gleam of passion,

He carried through the day.

And then I watched it die

And dwindle all away.

His beard grew long and messy,

His eyes were rimmed in red.

His gun became his friend

And then shot him through the head.

I knew of a soldier,

The bravest there could be.

And no one will remember

What it took to set him free.