| Brightened eyes, my secrets lie not far away
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| His medals and his badges are all dull by day
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| Many have I an answered plea, my general now I’ll often see
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| He comes at dawn, out on the lawn, in quiet steps
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| With darkened eyes and wounds that bled, have pillow for his weary head
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| He lays his body down to rest, among the dogs and gathered nest
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| Because he’s safe in arms now, what luck have I that I should see
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| Safe in arms now, my bloody boy returned to me
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| From Jericho back home to me
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| He sleeps so deep, so still at peace, and quiet thus
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| No frightful dreams, of battle’s roar, that shake his trust
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| I hope that he, is dreaming on, of better days
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| The morning fog, and waking sun, have healing ways
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| I’ll let him sleep, and soundly lay
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| A monument to him I pray
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| Because he’s safe in arms now, what luck have I that I should see
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| Safe in arms now, my bloody boy returned to me
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| From Jericho back home to me
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| For bruises fade, no traces left, as quick as frost
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| And never will, I have to know, a lover lost
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| My peace is made, my doubts rolled up, my bed complete
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| His waking gaze, and heart and soul, light on my sheets
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| Because he’s safe in arms now, what luck have I that I should see
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| Safe in arms now, my bloody boy returned to me
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| From Jericho back home to me |