Before the war his eyes were bright,
His coat was glossy with a good future in sight,
He went to war to help them fight,
He worked through day, he worked through night,
He walked with pride to put wrongs right,

Now he’s scared and his eyes are dull,
Up steep hills heavy cannon he did pull,
Up to his knees trudging through mud,
For this war he’s shed his blood,

He trips and falls, down he slides,
Exhausted, defeated, he’s dragged aside,
Despite his effort, and with all his pride,
The poor old war horse, alone, he died.