Ah' Chris mate. 8th June 1982. Falklands One
Ah' Chris mate. 8th June 1982. Falklands One
Ah’ Chris mate,
What a fate,
We’d laughed
and cavorted
Before the fun.
I’d had sex
In Pompey
And lots of rum.
It’d take a lot
To make us run.
You in your engine room
Me in mine.
All seemed well
All seemed fine.
Your ship
Was knightly
Mine was grey.
As we both looked
Out on that misty day.
We’d just spoken
Just said g’day.
From hundreds of feet,
A way away.
We joked while
The lads in green
Sang a song.
Until along came
That fucking
Big bomb.
The land looked
Miserable on that day.
But we didn’t care
We weren’t to stay.
Just say “so long”.
To the lads in green
And their boxes
of shit to feed the machine.
Then back to the atlantic
The raging sea.
How could we know?
How could we see?
The skyhawks came
On the 8th of June
With 500 pounders
Strapped for doom.
I was safe
and couldn’t see
In my hole
Quick lads stop.
I never saw you again.
There wasn’t really
Much left to grieve
All they found
Was your arm in a sleeve.
With a watch
From your girl.
