My Daddy's Come Home.

My Daddy's been called up into the War.
He's all round A1 and physically fit.
He can take his pick of the forces
From Army, Air Force and Navy to do his bit.

He's been assigned to the Atlantic Convoy fleet.
His job is an easy one- stoking the furnace with coal.
Not for him face to face combat with the foe.
A swift death delivered from a distance is the goal.

When bells ring and the hatches are battened down,
He says a prayer for survival and hopes they'll keep afloat.
There is no escape for those down below:
They will not be casting off in any lifeboat.

When the enemy is sunk, there will be fags and rum
And the Captain might get a promotion.
If they're lucky, they might get a day's leave.
He'd have just enough time to see his wife, Dad and Mum.

The Admiral of the fleet is piped aboard ship.
He fills them with propaganda and patriotic bullshit.
Tells them what England expects of her brave boys in blue;
Tries to encourage and inspire them to get on with it.

And now the war is over and my Daddy's come back.
With blue birds, peace ever after and Johnny in his own bed.
He fought for his country but now he's unemployed.
His children don't know him and his mates are all dead.

They didn't tell him how his conscience would plague him;
About the terrifying nightmares night after night.
Or, how he would hear the incessant ping, ping of the submarine radar.
"It's all over: we've won,

" they said, "You'll be alright."

My Daddy's come home and he'll never be the same.
He can't bear loud noises and he won't let us shut a door.
He's disillusioned, duped and depressed.
He says he can't see the sense in fighting wars any more.