I've not the wind to play the pipes or even a penny-whistle, but I muck about on guitar a bit.
I'd have posted this at BT today if I still thought there was any point.
WHEN MARGARET WAS ELEVEN (Pete St. John)
My father sailed away, and the band played tunes of glory A giant man with ribbons and bedeviled dignity. A regimental sergeant the back bone of the Empire For God and righteous glory, bound for High Germany.
Chorus: Sweet Lord I was just seven, when Margaret was eleven, They served us war for breakfast and soldiers songs for tea Your father's gone campaignin' was a way of not explainin' That soldiers are the living proof of our inhumanity
My childhood passed away midst tales and lurid stories Of manufactured glories and inhuman gallantry I asked "when is war over?" But no one deemed to answer me And Margaret played the dreaded tune called High Germany.
Chorus: Sweet Lord I was just seven, when Margaret was eleven, They served us war for breakfast and soldiers songs for tea Your father's gone campaignin' was a way of not explainin' That soldiers are the living proof of our inhumanity
My father made it home but he came without his reason Two eyes of molten madness a senseless fool of war He's just a child - my mother cried to be dressed in full regalia And paraded as a hero home from High Germany.
Chorus: Sweet Lord I was just seven, when Margaret was eleven, They served us war for breakfast and soldiers songs for tea Your father's gone campaignin' was a way of not explainin' That soldiers are the living proof of our inhumanity There were tunes of glory for Margaret and me
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