I grew up in Lawrence, there by the water In the shadow of a textile mill Sometimes I feel just like that building Empty but standing there still I liked the President, I liked the union I believed in the Rights of Man So I signed up when it was time to fight Hitler And they sent me off to Japan
I couldn't describe it, it was all just so bad I kept my head down, tried to stay alive I got shot in the leg, took me out of the action So I was lucky enough to survive I came home from the war, met a good woman named Maria We had ourselves a son When I first saw Jim's face, the first thing I thought I hope he never has to carry a gun
It was a long time ago, another life that I had A little boy who called me dad
I'd have terrible dreams of my time overseas But otherwise life was alright I had a job and a wife and a fine little lad With eyes so cheery and bright When his number came up I said let's move up north To Halifax, what do you say? But my Jim wouldn't have it, he said if I'm gonna be drafted I don't want to run away
It was a long time ago, another life that I had A little boy who called me dad
After just a few months the letters stopped coming And one morning a knock on the door Two nervous young men handed me a flag Said your son died in the war He gave his life for his country was what the man said He didn't believe it and neither did I I closed the front door, dropped the flag on the floor And I sat down in Jim's room and cried
It was a long time ago, another life that I had A little boy who called me dad
It was less than a year when my wife said to me You look so much like our little Jim She had to go, I don't blame her, you know I also remind me of him Now it's been forty years, I'd be a grandpa by now But instead I just sit here alone No one calls much these days, but anytime the phone rings I think maybe the boy's coming back home
It was a long time ago, another life that I had A little boy who called me dadTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
