 |
 |
|
| | |
Spitfire
Sometimes I circle high
In a sky I pray you’ll never see
It took my love away from me
And I have wished to see his landing
A brave young man who wished to fly
Over virgin fields he used to plough
They trained and watched the storm down south
All that summer for their calling
And in September like the geese they flew south
To replace their friends in the eagle’s mouth
They circled once as if in doubt
Their Spitfires shone in the morning
And I don’t need to tell you why he flies
Like a graceful bird he took to the sky
And I watched him climb
And I don’t want to talk about it
And he was just a boy who came to my house
To say my love was down in France
He stood before me like a ghost
A brave young man in the morning
And from a thousand feet, it looked just like a landing
The virgin field, newly ploughed
They circled till there was no doubt
And his Spitfire glowed in the morning
Sometimes I wish to fly
Over virgin fields newly ploughed
These old eyes strain as I look down
Through the clouds towards his landing | | |
|
| | |
|
