BRAD'S BALLAD(SGT BRAD WENTZ WHO DIED IN IRAQ)
`Twas a day just like any other
Waiting for some news out of Iraq.
When it came, it engulfed and smothered
Young Brad would soon be coming back.
At first it sounds quite good
A soldier's coming home at last;
Though traveling in a box of wood
With handles made of shiny brass.
Sound the trumpet, strike the drum;
A funeral dirge the band will play.
Sergeant Brad Wentz did succumb
To injuries sustained upon this day.
A little girl has lost her Dad
A wife has lost her lover.
A soldier gone is always sad
Be he husband, son or brother.
When duty called he packed his bags
He kissed his family goodbye.
Now all they have are dog tags and a flag
Is it any wonder they still cry?
Life goes on in his small town
The clocks are still all ticking
His family's world is upside-down
His headstone they are picking.
If he had been some Senator's son,
Would his life be sacrificed?
The working class hero is the one
That always pays the dearest price.
This warrior's heart is free to roam,
Above the clouds, beyond the fray.
Although his body rests at home,
His soul is with the Lord this day.
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