No record

Just a lad of sixteen years

He heard the call of war

With his pals and few fears

His courage in great store

Joining in the pals brigade

Kitchener’s bold idea

With village battalions made

With friends they’ll show no fear

So the boys with all their friends

Would not let their pals down

March to the bullets flesh can’t defend

To met in deaths dark gown

He was the last of his town

All the others had died

The final push he broke down

In disgrace he sobbed and cried

The court said it was cowardice

Orders he had refused

With no appeal or redress

For a broken mind abused

Marched to the firing squad

No blindfold to wear

Rejected the priestly word of god

Bravely standing there

Shot by the troops of his side

The orders of disgust

The firing squad later cry

For their breach of trust

On the war memorial cross

In the village square

The names of all the village loss

But one name was not there