Cala Cala walked the wastelands
collecting sticks and odds and ends;
A quiet lonely man in a quiet lonely place
in a great-coat from the army
and ragged battle dress.
Cala slept in closes and sat upon the steps
rubbed cold hands by the big fire
while he fought his war again
and how we made a fool of him
in our stupid childish ways
not knowing that the Colour Sergeant
had fought that war for us. |