It was thirty years ago, in a far away land,

where my father gave his life,

and although I know why, I just don’t understand.

I was just two, though I wish I was older,

to have been there for my mother,

to comfort, to hold her.

Being so young, I just don’t remember,

when my fathers life was lost,

on the nineteenth of November.

He was young too, just twenty-three,

his whole life ahead of him,

his whole life with me.

Throwing a ball, reading a book, the Army was his life

and it was that, that they took.

Although I didn’t know him,

he’s here in my heart,

through to the end,

right from the start.

Now I’m much older,

with a family of my own,

missing my father,

who I wish I had known.

What kind of man was he? Would he be proud?

Of the man I’ve become, as he lay in the ground.

Did he feel pain as he fell from the sky?

Although I was young I still question, why?

I do hear his voice though, in the tapes he had sent,

to my mother and me, and then heaven he went.

Well it’s been thirty years, and the war is since through,

but it took with it a man, the father I never knew.