John Condon

Just a day, another day

Beneath the Belgian sun

Passed grave on grave, row upon row

Until I see the name, John Condon

Carved in stone with harp and crown

Little crosses in the ground

And standing there, my silent prayer

Is for this boy who died, this soldier

Wee lad will not grow old

Heroes who don't come home

Here they lie in Belgian fields

And Picardy

Just a recruit in soldiers' blue

From Ireland's shores to here

This living hell, this [?]

Where young men die like you, John Condon

And all around, the harp and crown

The crosses in the ground

Stands up and proves the bitter truth

The waste of youth that lies forgotten

Wee lad will not grow old

Heroes who won't come home

Here they lie in Belgian fields

And Picardy

Now tell me John, 'fore I go on

What did you come in here for?

With Ireland's bold, your life untold

Fourteen years old, to die a soldier

And all around, the harp and crown

The crosses in the ground

What cause for serve, so undeserved

Heroes that don't come home

Sing out for all their souls

Here they lie in Belgian fields

And Picardy