JUST A SIMPLE SOLDIER
Author: A. Lawrence Vaincourt WWII RCAF Veteran

He was getting old and paunchy,
and his hair was falling fast.
As he sat around the club,
telling stories of the past.

Of a war he had fought in,
and the deeds that he had done.
In his exploits with his buddies,
they were hero’s, everyone.

And 'tho sometimes to his neighbours,
his tales became a joke.
All his buddies listened,
for they knew of what he spoke.

But we will hear no more his tales,
for old Bob has passed away.
And the world's a little poorer,
for a soldier died today.

He will not be mourned by many,
just his children and his wife.
For he lived an ordinary,
and quiet sort of life.

He held a job and raised a family,
quietly going along his way.
And the world won't note his passing,
'tho a soldier died today.

When politicians leave this earth,
their bodies lie in state.
Thousands note their passing,
and proclaim they were so great.

Papers tell their life stories,
from the time they were young.
But the passing of a soldier goes unnoticed,
and unsung.

Is the greatest contribution,
to the welfare of our land.
Some jerk who breaks his promise,
and cons his fellow man.

Or the ordinary fellow,
who in times of war and strife.
Goes off to serve his country,
and offers up his life.

The politicians stipend,
and the style in which he lives.
Are often disproportionate,
to the service that he gives.

While the ordinary soldier,
who offered up his all.
Is paid off with a medal,
and perhaps a pension small.

It's so easy to forget them,
as it was so long ago.
That our Bobs, Jims and Johnny’s,
went to battle - but we know.

It was not the politician,
with their compromise and ploys.
Who won for us the freedom,
that our country now enjoys.

Should you find yourself in danger,
with your enemies at hand.
Would you really want some cop out,
with his ever waffling stand.

Or do you want a soldier,
who has sworn he will defend.
His home, his kin, and county,
and will fight until the end.

He was just a common soldier,
and his ranks are growing thin.
But his presence should remind us,
we may need his like again.

For when countries are in conflict,
then we find the soldier's art.
Is to clean up all the troubles,
that the politicians start.

If we cannot do him honour,
while he is here to hear the praise.
Then let us least give him homage,
at the ending of his days.

Perhaps a simple headline,
in the paper that might say.
OUR COUNTRY IS IN MORNING,
FOR A SOLDIER DIED TODAY.