(Brooker) Called up to Camberley in '39 To play his part on the French front line He was full of hope, overflowing with tears He'd been on the earth barely nineteen years But he was willing Sailed across the Channel for to meet his foe Marched from Le Havre to Forge-les-Eaux There were sounds of battle that a**ailed his ears They moved that night with the taste of fear To the k**ing Got dug down in Deauville His young life on the line Had time to think about her His first love he'd left behind The battle lost At heavy cost To life and limb But not for him He was caught And marched away To darker days A prisoner He walked to Poland With thousands of others Their common plight Would make them brothers For years of cold and fear And lonely tears For four long years The Allies came To liberate They found him in rags In a pitiful state But alive Taken at the very start Not freed until the last Lest we forget the sacrifice That young men make for what seems right We lose them Confuse them Abuse them Young rose waiting on the English shore To hold her boy, now a man of twenty-four Hard of hearing, no feeling What do we know of pain and healing? Hard of hearing, hard of hearing