Не иссякли ещё поэты в американских селеньях...

The tanks were rattling like a thunder
The soldiers went to final fight
And here they carried young commander
With head all broken outright

His tank was hit with armor-piercer
So say good-bye to Guardian crew
Just four more corpses in the hillside
Will add to fair morning view

'Cause now the vehicle is a-burning
Wait for the shells to detonate
You wanna live to see this morning
But you're too weak and it's too late

So they'll extract you from the remains
They'll put your coffin on the clay
And fire & thunder from the mainguns
Will see you into your last way

For now the telegrames are flying
To tell the friends and relatives
That their good son is never coming
And never getting any leave

Old mother crying in the corner
And daddy sweeping tears by hand...
Oh honey you will never know
How an armourist met his end.

And there's that photo on the bookshelf
Collecting dust for years on end -
In uniform, with shoulder-boards on...
And he will never be her man.
In unifo-orm, wI-EEEEEEth shoul-der-bo-ards OOOOOOOn...
And he will never be her man.

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