Those stitches that stitched up my socks and my britches,
Mum was a wizard with a darning needle, but then again she had to be what with me and five others to wash cook and care for.

Dad was a soldier and he soldiered on, kept us going if things went wrong and now they're both gone.

They all go in the end and we are left to tend to things as best we can,

they're still looking over my shoulder though.