The Brylcreem Boys

Another piece of poetry taken from the remarkable lyricist I know as Klepsydra. I had to make some slight alterations to her original piece (added below) to make a workable structure and meter.
It seems like a fitting tribute with the 70th Anniversary of the start of World War 2 being so recent.

The Brylcreem Boys

Your hair is blonde and your uniform is blue
You've got a dozen women chasing after you
You're off to the pub soon as your plane touches ground
And you never try to get out of buying your round
You write to your mother nearly every day
But you never tell her what you really want to say
You don't like to mention all the things that you've seen
You don't like to think that you're only eighteen

You run out of your barracks and you close the door
Once again you're off to Happy Valley or the Ruhr
The engines start up and they make such a beautiful noise
You and your friends, they call you the Brylcreem Boys

Theres searchlights and fighters and power lines and flak
Every mission you know some chaps won't make it back
There'll be six fewer chairs at the table for tea
And you say a little prayer - "make it them and not me"
You'd feel guilty but you know that they're praying too
And they're praying it won't be them, it'll be you

You run out of your barracks and you close the door
Once again you're off to Happy Valley or the Ruhr
The engines start up and they make such a beautiful noise
You and your friends, they call you the Brylcreem Boys

They keep sending your squadron out there night after night
The moon up above you breaks out in a clear yellow light
You curse the moon for not staying hidden till later
And you ask for a new course from the navigator
Keep me clear of the ack ack, Joe
Twenty miles south on bearing one-one-oh
Two thousand feet high, or should that be low
Here's the Dutch coast, now go, go go

You hate to talk about it but you know for certain
One of these days you'll face the final curtain
If youre lucky you might get to bail out
Some of your friends did, without a doubt
No way of knowing if they made a safe landing
No way of guessing, no clear understanding
Maybe they're prisoners, your bomb aimer said
And you nodded, but you knew the odds were they were dead

And your hair's still blonde and your uniform's still blue
And the squadron leader's stripes on your shoulders are still new
You still go to the pub every single night
And you get pretty drunk, but never start up a fight
You still write to your mother but the letters are short
And you somehow don't send them as often as you ought
And then came the night that you had foreseen
And now and forever you're only eighteen

You ran out of your barracks and you closed the door
On your last trip to Happy Valley or the Ruhr
The engines started up and they made such a beautiful noise
You and your friends, they called you the Brylcreem Boys

Category:

Music

Tags:

• Music
• Piano
• Original
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• The
• Brylcreem
• Boys
• World
• War
• 70th
• Anniversary
• Furry
• Klepsydra
• Klepsie
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