A Rose For Pierrette

(for my dad)

When my father was a young man
With a gun is his hand

He headed across the sea to a strange land

And the war was a ragin
In the spring of 45
Man they did what they must- just to stay alive

So they loaded up their green trucks
And they headed for the east
Toward the rolling Ardenes
And a little lazy town called Battice

It was there he met a young girl
And he asked her for her hand
As he fell for the first time in a foreign land

Then he sold his only cigarettes
And he buttoned up his vest
In the pocket of his clothes
He put a single white rose for Pierrette

And they lay in the fields by the schoolyard
And they walked hand in hand by the stream
And they knew it couldn’t last
But hell a young boy and a young girl can dream

Then the years rolled by
Like they always do
And the man comes home
And they write each other for a year or two

Then he meets my mother
And she takes his name
But in the deep and distant corners of a heart
We all know- some things remain

Then one day a card came
In the midday post
But this was not like the rest
No this was different than most
Well he opened up that letter
And imagine my surprise
As the tears welled up in my father’s eyes

It said “we’re sad to inform you”
“and we must carry on”
Yeah and that’s how we learned
Sweet Pierrette was gone

So I gathered my thoughts and my credit card miles
I packed my guitar and i boarded a plane
And I did it for my Dad
Yeah I went there in his name

And I found me a driver
And I found me a car
I found a tired old soldier in a Belgian bar

Well I told him my story
And when that story was through
We both knew exactly what we had to do

So we walked there together
To the spot where she lay
And as we stood there in silence on that winter day

My mind filled with wonder
And just a touch of regret
But in the pocket of my clothes
Was a single white rose for Pierrette.