My daddy was a fighting mannhis daddy was one toonthey both polished up their buttonsnand waved red white and bluenwhen the parade came down main streetnit was lined with kids like menwondering when we'd be able nto be all that we could bennMy grandfather left his legnout in Flanders fieldsnhe smiled when he came homensaid we will never yieldnHe'd sit me on his stumpnat least that's what they saidnI was too young to remembernand now grandaddy's deadnnMy daddy stormed the beachesnat a place called Normandynmanaged to come home without a scratchnat least none that I could seenbut some nights I'd hear him cryingnit would scare me half to deathnand my mother would have to hold himnuntil he caught his breathnnI'm a soldiernmarching off to warnwant my daddy to be proudnlike his daddy beforennSo today I walk in Basranand I think about my sonnsitting in school and learningnabout all the wars we've wonnNot sure when I'll see him againnbut I pray it will be soonnI'm a soldier the last in a linenunder a stranger's moonnnI know some people may have liednto get me over herenit would not be the first timenbut my duty is clearnI fight for my brothersnand the eyes up in the skynand my son sitting awake at homenasking his mother whynnI'm a soldiernmarching off to warnwant my daddy to be proudnlike his daddy before