Gift Horse Mouth – Cyril Bruce
You never took no charity,
Nor would accept a helping hand,
Some would scorn or shake their heads,
Some just didn’t understand.
Nostalgia of that little town,
Now just a distant memory,
No character there any more,
A town that meant so much to me.
What have they done?
What has gone wrong?
There is nothing left to lose,
Are you turning in your grave, Cyril Bruce?
A uniform, so smart and green,
Shiny medals hanging from your chest,
A far cry from that blackened cloak,
Wonder in which you were laid to rest?
A moment’s silence if you please,
A flag half-mast, the town salutes,
A character from distant memories,
The Tramp of Hemsworth, Cyril Bruce,
Set the Blue Lady’s ghost at ease,
The Tramp of Hemsworth, Cyril Bruce,
People get down on your knees,
The Tramp of Hemsworth, Cyril Bruce
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