Letter From A Distant Shore - Bernard Fanning

Dear brother, you would not believe

What this killing field forced my eyes to see

From the sniper’s post with a trembling hand

I put a bullet in to another man

I watched the crimson bloom on his uniform

Billow like a cloud till his life was gone

With the killer’s stain heavy on me now

I fix my bayonet for the final hour

When that whistle blows it’s mournful sound

Will deliver me to the hungry mouths

Of the howling hounds of hell

When the snowball comes on the recruitment drive

Don’t let your heart swell up with unfounded pride

For a distant king you’d be fighting for

He’ll lay you down to waste on a distant shore

With the killer’s stain heavy on me now

I fix my bayonet for the final hour

When that whistle blows it’s mournful sound

Will deliver me to the hungry mouths

Of the howling hounds of hell

The howling hounds of hell

The howling hounds of hell