a soldier's song

A flag flutters soft in the cool, southern breeze.
A soft cloud tatters the sky.
The sun bakes the tarmac, the heat rises slow.
He’s back home, at last, Billy Guy.

He’s everyone’s son, was everyone’s hope,
As a boy, and sure as a man.
Did all his school, took a wife, had a child,
He’s back home at last, Billy Guy.

He wrote home “I love you,” he wrote home “I will.”
In his own hand, he wouldn’t lie.
But war has a way of making truth false.
He’s back home at last, Billy Guy.

Her hand’s on the casket, the girl by her side.
A bugler plays to her right.
They fold up the flag; it flutters no more.
He’s back home for good, Billy Guy.