By John McFarlane
They occupy the bar rooms, the paddock and the home,
In every nook and cranny of this old land they roam,
It’s been fifty years, and more, and fifty years and less
But the wars will not be over until they’re laid to rest.
They are mixed up and tormented, and their minds will ne’er be free
Of the scars deep down inside them
Of the misery within, hidden by an impish grin
And a never ending toughness won’t allow them to give in.
They will only talk of laughter and the mischief in between
But if we watch them closely, when they have a drink within,
In their eyes there is the sorrow and they lack the laughter’s gleam.
They drink and smoke and swear, and of their tempers best beware.
On the outside not a care, not a burden do they bear,
But in their minds they live it, time and time and time again
‘Till the smoking and the drinking finally kills the endless pain
Of the wars they fought in jungles and being home again.
Some store their anger quietly; others loudly vent their hatred,
Either way, it’s very true, that we must not disrespect them.
Each had his way of coping and they need the love of us.
Else life will lay them low.
And the wives who stand behind them quietly backing all the way
Comfort kids who do not know why the old man cannot sleep
And sometimes in their pillows for him they softly weep.
All the wars will not be over ‘till all Anzac days are gone
With not a single soldier to rally at the dawn.
All the Angos and the Darcys, and the Joes and Audreys worn
From world wars to Korea, and Vietnam so forlorn.
And the boys now finally rested, in the arms of God are nested
Looking down from heaven lofty, with an open hand extended
Reg and Jack and our own Douglas bidding welcome to the restless,
heavy hearts and forlorn breasted.
Men and women who were forced to do a chore they thought the worst of
In a land that they knew nought of, then to bring it home inside them
A new life to begin, coping with the nightmares strewn, busted weddings, families
And another generation of War-torn humans hewn.
And should ever I be honoured, when we lay them to their rest
To say a word or two, at a gathering more that few
I would simply say we loved them, they were our mates, so strong and true.
I would simply say we’ll miss them
And bid them FOND FAREWELL --- FOR NOW