When Margaret Was Eleven      by Pete St. John, Saint Music

My father waved farewell and the band played tunes of glory
A giant man with ribbons and bedevilled dignity
A regimental sergeant, the backbone of the empire
For God and righteous glory bound for High Germany.

Chorus:
Sweet lord, I was just seven when Margaret was eleven
They served us war for breakfast and soldier's songs for tea
Your father's gone campaigning was a way of not explaining
The soldiers are the living proof of our inhumanity.

My childhood passed away 'midst the tales and lurid stories
Of manufactured glories and futile gallantry
I asked, "When is war over?" but no one deigned to answer
And Margaret played that dreaded tune called High Germany.
Chorus

My father made it home, but he came without his reason
Two eyes of molten madness, a senseless fool of war
He's like a child, my mother cried, to be dressed in fine regalia
And paraded as a hero, home from High Germany.
Chorus

There'll be no tunes of glory for Margaret and me.