Listen all you people, try and understand
You may be a soldier, woman, child or man
But there won't be many coming home
No, there won't be many coming home
Oh, there won't be many, maybe ten out of twenty,
But there won't be many coming home.
Now the old folks will remember on that dark and dismal day,
How their hearts were choked with pride as their children marched away
Now the glory is all gone, they are left alone
Oh, there won't be many, maybe five out of twenty
If they all came back but one he was still some mother's son,
And there won't be many coming home
by: José Duarte