Tobruk 1942 and Weston-Super-Mare, 1957
My best mate’s dad was at Tobruk in 1942,
My dad happened to be there too,
They both bore arms, but not as brothers,
In fact, they were trying to kill each other,
Heinrich Hoffman with his gun,
And my dad, Rod, in the African sun,
But their sons were friends, growing up together,
Kicking a ball in the hot summer weather,
(Tobruk to Weston seems a long way,
The sand is different and so is the pay)
But when war ends,
Enemies are friends,
And the songs they sing of innocence,
Give golden youth experience.
Here’s hoping for a peaceful Euro 2004.