Men of my generation

Just arent supposed to cry

So I’m standing here

With just sightly moist eye

For more than fifty years

You were y friend

Friendship overcoming 

Most things in the end.

But  not this time

Thanks to foolish pride;

Neither ableto see things

From the other one’s side.

Now I’m standing here 

For old time’s sake

Booted and suited 

For your funeral and wake,

And I’ll stand by your box

And whisper your name:

If it were me 

You’d do the same.

Goodbye my old mate

Since squaddie days,

Always remembered for 

Your eccentric ways
Now its off to the wake
To chew thr fat
Old squaddie mates
Are pretty good at that.
But for a while
We'll just sit and think
As on the table ubtouched
Stands the Absent Friends Drink

And when it’s time

To be be on our way

We’ll wonder who’ll be missing  

At our next funeral day.

And as men of our generation

Just aren’t supposed to cry

We’ll all shake hands

With just sightly moist eye