Don’t let my Rose hear of how I died, lying alone on this cold hill
Tell her that I died surrounded by friends, quietly and peaceful and still
Don’t tell her off the human horrors surrounding me where I lie
Speak gently when you say to her I spoke her name and gently cried

No mention of the bullets that tore at me or the shrapnel in my spine
Just the hushed mention of a death that was painless, mercifully short on time
Spare the thought of the blood I have lost no mention of the leg that’s not there
Speak with kindness and clarity tell of a kind nurse who stroked my hair

I want my Rose to remember the man she loved without restrain
She should always have the memories of me passing away without pain
Then I can face what painful death my God has set aside for me
I can wait until I die and then watch my Rose from above where I’ll be