The Chestnut Ward by McGrath of Harlow

McGrath's Comments:  I wrote a song after being in hospital for a knee operation a few years ago which seems to fit in here. It's on my website, with chords - but here are the words anyway: 

In the Chestnut Ward, 
in the middle of the night, 
propped up on your pillow 
you wait till it gets light. And though your body's aching, 
you know that it's all right, in the Chestnut Ward, 
in the middle of the night.

And over in the distance, in a little pool of light, 
there's a nurse, she'd busy writing
all that stuff they've got to write.
But you know that if you called her 
she'd be right there by your side 
and she'd tuck you in and give you stuff 
to help you feel all right,
In the Chestnut Ward...

And all around me sleeping are a bunch of broken men,
who came here to the Chestnut Ward 
to get patched up again,
and we've talked all day about our lives
and the choices that we made,
and it's hard to believe we only 
met each other yesterday.
In the Chestnut Ward... 

Old men who fought, so long ago, 
against the fall of night,
and one who went to prison, 
for he wouldn't go to fight. And one who had a comrade 
who was killed by Uncle Sam - and me, I was a baby then, 
in a shelter, in a pram.

Well, it's something like a prison camp,
and something like a jail,
and all of us are frightened men, 
though some are tough as nails.
And we all are tired and hopeful -
we're tired of all the pain,
and we're waiting till the morning
when we hope we'll walk again.
In the Chestnut Ward.... 

But they're closing down the Chestnut Ward, 
that's what the papers say.
And the people who have helped us here
will go their separate ways.
There's a cheaper way to so it, 
and the Chestnut Ward won't pay when you're getting back to basics 
in the modern kind of way.

Well the ones who'd close the Chestnut ward,
I'd cut them back to size.
I'd cut them into pieces, 
along with all their lies.
And I'd leave them lying broken -
and I wouldn't even care.
Still, perhaps they might get mended -
if the Chestnut Ward's still there.

In the Chestnut Ward, 
in the middle of the night,
propped up on your pillow 
you wait till it gets light. 
And though your body's aching, 
you know that it's all right,
in the Chestnut Ward, 
in the middle of the night.

And over in the distance, in a little pool of light, 
there's a nurse, she'd busy writing
all that stuff they've got to write.
But you know that if you called her 
she'd be right there by your side 
to tuck you in and give you stuff 
to help you feel all right.

In the Chestnut Ward, 
in the middle of the night, 
propped up on your pillow 
you wait till it gets light. 
And though your body's aching, 
you know that it's all right, 
in the Chestnut Ward, 
in the middle of the night.

(And thank God for the National Health Service, in spite of all they've done to wreck it.)