Boy Called Brigsby

During the old king's lengthy reign

The streets were filled with hungry and disdain'd

As the long boats come to port

The men all march to show support

We were forced to picture war

In all it's greatness and it's horror

This boy called Brigsby was put on the line

Took down three before he stepped on a mine

Then they see how their enemy flees

When they hear from the blood and bone the pleas

Come to me, help me out of this hole

I cannot see, think I'm losing my soul