I once visited the father of a soldier
who died, fighting a war quite far away.
And the words he spoke to me shall ring eternally,
so listen to the words he had to say.
Did you ever have a pal who was your hero?
A pal who meant the world and more to you?
Who conquered every dare and all your dreams would share,
he alone was the cause for all you do?
Did you ever have a pal who’d lift your sorrow?
Who by a smile could make sad moments bright?
He could make each pain and care somehow seem to disappear
and bring sunshine into the darkest night.
If you ever had a pal, like my pal,
then you know, when duty called, just how I feel:
That beneath my stead pride there’s sadness deep inside,
a heartache there that nothing seems to heal.
He said, “Dad, I’m much too young to be a hero.”
But, still he went in answer to his call.
“Dad I want to do all the things you taught me to.”
Then went away and gladly gave his all.
In my hands I hold the emblems of a hero,
these medals and a flag—red, white and blue.
And yet, far and gone, lies the body of my son,,
who died because his heart was brave and true.
But, Sir, I’d rather have a son than a hero.
I wonder if the world ever becomes
a place where people see a better way to be—
where men no longer sacrifice their sons.
Yes, I’d rather have a son than have a hero.
Yet, you hand me these ribbons and a flag.
Did you ever even see who you took from me?
Did you even know the trophy that you had?
I always knew he’d be brave and do his duty.
But, there was so much he had inside to give.
You said, “Be all that you can be; come join today’s army.”
Yet you couldn’t even give him time to live.
Sir, I’d rather have a son than have a hero.
And though I respect and honor this call you’ve made.
Yet your words can never hide the emptiness I feel inside;
nor these medals ever fill a hero’s grave.