AT LAST, AT LONG LAST, ONE MANS DREAM IS BEING BORN,
TO BUILD A MONUMENT TO THE BARNSLEY PALS,
WHO DIED UPON THE SOMME.
THEY GAVE ALL OF THEIR TOMORROWS, FOR YOUR TODAYS AND MINE,
AND FOR THIS MAN JACK WARDLE, TODAY IS PAYBACK TIME.
SOME OF THEM WERE FAMILY MEN,
SOME LIED ABOUT THEIR AGE,
SOME NOT OLD ENOUGH TO DRINK,
BUT THEY TOOK ON THE KAISERS RAMPAGE.
COLD, HUNGRY AND WEARY, IN THEIR RAT INFESTED TRENCHES,
THEY WAITED, DODGING SHELLS AND FLAK,
WHICH RAINED DOWN ON THEIR DEFENCES.
GRENADES FELL ALL AROUND THEM,
AS EACH MAN TOOK THEIR STANCE,
THEN OVER INTO NO MANS LAND,
WITHOUT A BACKWARD GLANCE.
NO BUGLE BAND BLEW LUSTILY,
NO CROWD TO CHEER THEM ON,
THE SLAUGHTER OF THE PALS BEGAN,
ON THAT JULYS EARLY DAWN.
THEY WATCHED IN FROZEN HORROR,
AS THEIR MATES FELL ONE BY ONE,
WORN OUT MEN IN WORN OUT KHAKI,
CUT TO RIBBONS BY THE HUN.
AND IF THEY PAUSED IN NO MANS LAND,
TWAS TO CRADLE THE HEAD OF A NEW FOUND FRIEND,
AS HE BREATHED HIS LAST
AND CRIED OUT TO GOD FOR HIS DELIVERANCE.
GUNS RUMBLING IN THE DISTANCE,
WERE THE BARNSLEY PALS LAST POST,
THEY GAVE THEIR LIVES TO KEEP ENGLAND FREE,
IN THE DARKNESS OF THE SOMME.
SOME CALLED OUT FOR LOVED ONES,
AS ONE BY ONE THEY FELL,
TOSSED AROUND LIKE RAG DOLLS,
FROM THE BULLETS AND THE SHELLS,
THEN WORST OF ALL THE MUSTARD GAS,
THAT ROBBED THEM OF THEIR SIGHT,
YET! STILL THEIR GUN FIRE COULD BE HEARD,
WELL INTO THE NIGHT.
GONE THOSE HAPPY MEMORIES,
OF DAYS AT SILKSTONE CAMP,
GONE NOW THEIR COMRADES,
WHO NEVER STOOD A CHANCE.
THOUGH WE CANNOT NAME ALL THOSE WHO DIED,
THAT LEFT KIDS WITHOUT THEIR DADS,
OR THE MANY MOTHERS LEFT TO GRIEVE,
FOR THE LOSS OF THEIR YOUNG LADS
THEY GAVE TO US THE FINEST GIFT,
THE GIFT OF LIFE AND FREEDOM,
THOSE LADS WHOSE OWN LIVES ONCE WERE FILLED,
WITH HOPE AND SPECULATION
AND THAT IS WHY JACK WARDLE,
VOWED, TO RAISE A MONUMENT TO THEM,
SO THAT FOLKS WOULD KNOW,
THE BARNSLEY PALS, HADN'T DIED IN VAIN,
WE WILL PLACE IT ON SERRES BATTLEFIELD,
WHERE THEY FELL THAT EARLY DAWN,
YES! TODAY FOR YOU JACK WARDLE
A DREAM IS BEING BORN........
