She is not coming home...
I won’t believe she is not coming home…
Waking up every morning beside me will be my bliss…
Now and then your voice speaks softly into my ears…
...
Give me the scorn of the stars and a peak defiant;
Wail of the pines and a wind with the shout of a giant;
Night and a trail unknown and a heart reliant.
Give me to live and love in the old, bold fashion;
A soldier's billet at night and a soldier's ration;
A heart that leaps to the fight with a soldier's passion.