The windswept graves of long lost friends,
Lie miles across the seas.
There but for the grace of God,
Why them ? And why not me.

The battle on Mount Tumbledown,
a barren waste of land.
A tribute to my soldier friend,
My comrades final stand.

The sky was black, yet all ablaze,
With flares, and guns, and bombs.
My friend was by my side that night,
He’s fallen, now he’s gone.

I stop to search the sodden marsh,
The mud is everywhere.
I find him scattered in a hole,
His brains amongst his hair.

I held him in my arms that night,
With him when he cried.
“ Kill me now “ he whispered,
And then he died.

Now buried on a hillside,
Eight thousand mile away.
Apart from friends and family,
Forever he will stay.

I see him still, the way he was,
Before the rounds hit home.
A funny, healthy, cheerful lad,
No brains, no blood, no bone.

I see him in my dreams,
I see him in the mist.
I see him in The Naafi,
Legless, and half p*****

I seldom name my friend,
That died by me that night.
His name is not important,
He fought for peace and right.

Just another soldier,
Lost on Tumbledown that night.
So long ago, why should I care ?
Why lie awake at night ?

I shouldn’t get these nightmares,
Of comrades, dead and dying.
I shouldn’t wake up screaming,
And yes ! I wake up crying.

“ The Falklands “ is a lonely place,
On earth, there is no worse.
We fought for Queen and Country,
It left me with this curse.

Until I die, I won’t forget,
The screams I heard that night.
They’ll live on in my dreams,
A funny word “ Goodnight “