One miserable morning in black ′44
When the forward commander
When he asked that his men be withdrawn
And the generals gave thanks
Held back the enemy tanks for a while
And the Anzio bridghead was held for the price
Of a few hundred ordinary lives
And kind old king George sent mother a note
When he heard that father was gone
It was, I recall, in the form of a scroll
In a drawer of old photographs, hidden away
And my eyes still grow damp
With his own rubber stamp
There was frost in the ground
When the tigers broke free
And no one survived from the royal fusiliers, company c
They were all left behind
And that's how the high command