Tom Smith
The old folks said, “He’s just a boy.”
When Tom Smith went to war,
“Why, he don’t even cuss a bit,
Or hang around the bar.”
But I knew Tom Smith was a man
To leave his home and kin,
To know he might be killed in war
And not be seen again.
His father said, “I need your help.
It’s time to plant, you know.
If we don’t get it in the ground,
That corn’ll never grow.”
And Tom he said, “I know that Pa,
But this is that way, too:
Without the help of fightin’ men
America wouldn’t have grew.”
Tom Smith he read a lot of books
And other boys made fun.
They called him “sissy” but to Tom
It didn’t matter none.
You see, Tom he was quite a lad;
A handsome fellow, too.
He seemed to know the good from bad,
The kindly things to do.
He donned his navy Sunday wear,
A double-breasted suit,
And neatly tucked his pants leg down
Into his leather boots.
He had to go to Coopersville,
About six miles from here.
His daddy gravely talked awhile
And tried to hold his tears.
Tom’s mother said, “Oh, son my boy…
Remember to be strong.”
And little Johnny said, “Hey, Bud.
Don’t stay away too long.”
Mrs. Smith she hugged him tight and cried;
Tom’s daddy shook his hand
And said, “Be back by harvest time,
I’ll need another man.”
I gave Tom Smith a ride that day;
He talked and sang and grinned.
A lad so full of kindly ways,
I’d never see again.
The old folks said he was a boy
Who should be tilling land;
But when Tom Smith left home for war,
I knew he was a man.
from Did Someone Say Tomorrow by Mark Howard Bowles © Mark Howard Bowles