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  • Tom Boyd

Let Them In


Let them in

Let them in, Peter They are very tired Give them couches where the angels sleep And light those fires

Let them wake whole again To brand new dawns Fired by the sun not wartime’s Bloody guns

May their peace be deep Remember where the broken bodies lie God knows how young they were To have to die God knows how young they were To have to die

So give them things they like Let them make some noise Give dance hall bands not golden harps To these our boys

And let them love, Peter For they’ve had no time They should have trees and bird songs And hills to climb

The taste of summer in a ripened pear And girls sweet as meadow wind With flowing hair

And tell them how they are missed But say not to fear It’s gonna be alright With us down here

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