The Battle's Won

By
Set in the lady’s kitchen. The boy is an official delivery boy.

Enter Lady

Lady: I fear it is too late,
For me to carry on.
The battlefields are quiet,
The fighting's been and gone.
My heart cries out with sorrow,
For the men who lost their lives.
For their children, mothers, fathers,
And their lonely widowed wives.
These battles they are pointless,
Too many lives are lost.
Why don’t the leaders realise,
These wars come with a cost.
My own man, he went out there,
Just a few short months ago.
I haven’t heard from him since,
But the tears, oh do they flow.
I know I really miss him,
All I seem to do is cry.
Our little girl calls for him often,
I know there’s sadness in her eyes.
I’m glad this war is over,
My man is coming back.
With his boots and his rifle,
And all gear in that old pack.
The pack, it was his father’s,
Passed on down to him.
The rifle was brand new,
And the boots from his mate Tim.
They’ll all be worn and dirty,
With many stories to tell.
About my man’s bravery,
And how men around him fell.
My man will be uninjured,
Save a scratch or two.
He’ll tell gruesome stories,
About the battles he fought through.
I wonder when he’ll get here,
I really hope it’s soon.
I should be cleaning the house,
His mother’s coming at noon.
I must dust out his study,
I haven’t touched it yet.
Then clean up the kitchen,
And get out the china set.
What’s that sound?
Someone’s knocking on the door.
I thought I told the neighbours,
Not to visit before four.

Enter boy

Boy: Excuse me ma’am,
I have a letter.
If you’d like to take a seat,
I think you’d better.
The letter it was slow,
To get to you.
It’s about your husband,
Freddie Blue.
I hate to be the one that says this,
But there is no other way.
Your Freddie he was killed in action,
It’s been two months today.
I’m sorry ma’am,
I have to go.
If you need any help,
You will let me know?

Exeunt





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