My little boy went off to war,
He’d never been so far away before.
He loved to be a soldier in play,
Creating new war games every day.
The hayloft was his military base,
And the barnyard was the battle place.
The enemy was an old milk cow or two,
For an army tank...a rusty plow would do.
Grenades were potatoes he’d sneak from the bin,
At the end of each war…. he’d always win!!
His helmet was an old mixing bowl,
And his field ration was a biscuit or roll.
….Please dear Lord, protect my soldier boy.
His weapon is no longer a wooden toy.
Help him win this thing called war,
And return him safely to the old barn door.
No comments:
Post a Comment