Cyril Bruce

Hey Cyril I was just a boy,
But I recall, recall it well.
You there sitting with your dogs,
On the steps of the Blue Bell.
And I recall that photograph,
Framed upon the barber’s wall,
Of you sitting on that bench,
I had nothing, you had it all.

A moment’s silence if you please,
A flag half-mast, the town salutes,
A character from distant memories,
The Tramp of Hemsworth, Cyril Bruce.

And there are stories often told,
Of a military past,
I’m sure I’ve seen a photograph,
Of a hero who aged too fast.
I will watch you up the hill,
You’ll be okay til you get home,
Cyril Bruce has got your back,
Yet no flowers on his gravestone.

A moment’s silence if you please,
A flag half-mast, the town salutes,
A character from distant memories,
The Tramp of Hemsworth, Cyril Bruce.

You never took no charity,
Nor would accept a helping hand,
Some would scorn or shake their heads,
Some just didn’t understand.
Nostalgia of that little town,
Now just a distant memory,
No character there any more,
A town that meant so much to me.

What have they done?
What has gone wrong?
There is nothing left to lose,
Are you turning in your grave, Cyril Bruce?
A uniform, so smart and green,
Shiny medals hanging from your chest,
A far cry from that blackened cloak,
Wonder in which you were laid to rest?

A moment’s silence if you please,
A flag half-mast, the town salutes,
A character from distant memories,
The Tramp of Hemsworth, Cyril Bruce,
Set the Blue Lady’s ghost at ease,
The Tramp of Hemsworth, Cyril Bruce,
People get down on your knees,
The Tramp of Hemsworth, Cyril Bruce.