Goodbye Mr. Chips

England 1920

I’m well in my eighties now you see
The life of a school master was for me
Brookfield School is where I have been
A private school for the sons of Englishmen

I was a young man when I first came here
For years a stodgy boring bachelors life
Then in my middle age I met my darling wife
She brought me joy my heart’s desire
Having tea and scones beside our fire

She had the faculty eating from her hand
She got me noticed and life was grand
I became the head of these hallowed halls
A part of Brookfield like the walls

The boys all loved her she had such grace
As well as having the most pretty face
I think I was the happiest man on earth
Then I lost her as she was giving birth

All alone at Brookfield in my pain
Never to take a wife again
Then the war, the four horsemen rode once more
A war like nothing we had seen before
All my old students fought for the King
After Sunday chapel as hymns we would sing
I would read my boys names who gave everything

The war it stayed for several years
My eyes burned with the salty tears
To see my boys grown into young men
Dead in battle never to come home again

But the war ended and we survived
The sons of the fathers came to Brookfield alive
My years went by until I retired
Now I lie on my bed, my time expired

I hear them talking, outside my Door
Old Chips is Dying, it’s such a shame
He had no children to continue his name
But that’s not true.
I had a thousand little joys
And they were all my Brookfield boys