Now he's marching soldiers in the rain
as on to war they rode.
A long thin line of human mind,
damnation as their load!
In the mud in coldness dark he'd shiver
out his fear,
What disappointing sights he'd seen instead
of one's so dear
instead of one's so dear
Going home, He's going home to the land
he loved so well,
Going home, he fought for two whole years
he never fell,
He's going home, He's going home.
Harold Land with a wave of his hand stood
sadly on the stage,
Clutching red ribbons from a badge but
he didn't look his age,
only two years had passed between his
leaving home and back,
He had lost his love and youth while leading
the attack
Leading the attack
In conversation it could be said,
Well after war your heart is dead,
Well it's not hard to understand,
There is no heart in Harold Land.
