Well, you were Davids father
and he was your only son
and the new cut peats a-rotting
and the work is left undone

Because an old man is weeping
and old man in pain
for David, his son David
that will not come again

Oh, the letters he wrote you
I can see them still
not a word of the fighting
just the sheep on the hill

and how you should get
the crops in
´ere the year gets stormier
and the bosh have got his body
and I was his officer

Well, you were only Davids father
but I had fifty sons
when we went up in the evening
under the arch of the guns

and we came back at twilight
oh God I heard them call
to me for help and pity
that I could not help at all

Oh never will I forget you
my men that trusted me
more my sons than your fathers
for they could only see

the little helpless babies
and the young men in their pride
they could not see you dying
and hold as you died

happy, young and gallant
they saw their first born go
but not strong limbs broken
and the beautiful men brought low

the pitious writhing bodies
they screamed "Don't leave me, Sir!"
for they were only your fathers
but I was your officer