Rosie

Rosie, I wish that you were here

I miss you so much. Rosie, my dear.

Rosie, I miss the hell that we raised and the trails that we blazed. I miss

The other half of me. My Rosie

Rosie, we played our song to death. Now the piano's out of tune. And the

Singer's out of breath. Rosie, do you love me still. Rosie, my little

Daffodil.

I was a lanky private. Who thought he knew it all. Swept off his feet by a

Right Bobby Dazzler. The RAF and the WREN. Like old mother hens. Strutting

Through our lives going... Quack, quack, quack. Private who? Quack,

Quack, quack. He's no good for you.

Those were the years. When beer was beer.

And you knew where you stood. The laughing stock of the neighborhood.

Down at the local Palais, me and the lads were having a knees up. I turns

Round to Harry. What's that noise rattling the tea cups. Better get your

Head down. Sounds like another V.1.

Everyone was screaming and shouting. And making the most appalling noise.

So not unnaturally. I popped out to see exactly what had happened. Somebody

Said that the bomb.

Had missed the Palais by inches. But had totally destroyed the next street.

The next street... We live in the next street. Rosie, Rosie!

Rosie, I wish you were here. I miss you so much. Rosie, my dear. Rosie, do

You love me still. Rosie, my broken daffodil.