JOHN CONDON
Words & Music: R. Laird / S. Starrett / T. McRory
Publisher: Bardis Music ©2002

Just a day,
Another day
  Beneath the Belgian sun,
Past grave on grave,
Row on row,
Until I see
  The name John Condon
Carved in stone
With harp and crown,
Little crosses in the ground,
And standing there,
My silent prayer
Is for a boy
  Who died a soldier.

Wee lad who'll not grow old,
Heroes that don't come home,
Here they lie in Belgian fields
And Picardy.

Just a recruit,
In soldiers boots,
  From Ireland's shores to here,
This living hell,
This Poelkappele,
Where young men fell,
  Like you, John Condon.
And all around,
The harp and crown,
The crosses in the ground
Stand up in proof,
The bitter truth,
The waste of youth
  That lies forgotten!

Wee lad who'll not grow old,
Heroes that won't come home,
Here they lie in Belgian fields
And Picardy.

Now tell me, John,
Before I go on,
  What did you come here for,
With Ireland's bold,
Your life untold,
14 years old,
  To die a soldier?
And all around,
The harp and crown,
The crosses in the ground—
What cause was served?
So undeserved!

Heroes that don't come home,
Sing out for all their souls,
Here they lie in Belgian fields
And Picardy.

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Niamh Parsons recording: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xVNbK5Afx-o

Mary Dillon recording: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vFmbvthv_Kg

Fairport Convention: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ifVYtH1d3uw