TEDS WAR STORY`S


Taken back in time was our old grandfather Ted,
Sat by a warm fire, and nodding his head.
Yes I was there back in nineteen forty two,
As he tore off more baccy and started to chew.

Another double for Ted if you please Landlord,
As more gathered around the fire in a little hoard.
Some of his stories from the war where grim,
But were told with a passion from deep inside him.

But this one was different if I may be so bold,
It was about a young lad just fourteen years old.
Taken away from his mum and great aunt,
To work as a slave, in a strange munitions plant.

Poland was full of slaves treated in this way,
Never enough rations to last them the day.
The guards beat them often, with more work to do,
Just you feel lucky this did not happen to you.

Helping the resistance, to lead air raids in,
Sending the right code for the bombing to begin.
A medal for bravery this young lad was sent,
From the great Winston Churchill, England’s great gent.

And after the war he came over here,
He’s stood behind the bar, now serving your beer.
So never a bad word shall be said about this lad
He does the best pint of bitter I’ve ever had.