In the leaves from the trees,
There lies a young man.
His name is Bobby Jenson
And he doesn't have a hand.
He lost it in a war,
And doesn't like to say,
How he lost his hand
In such a scary way.
He's lost many friends,
throughout the many years,
And will often sit and stare,
Soon bursting out with tears.
"I'm sorry for your loss,"
Many say to him.
But all he can think about
Is his best friend, Tim
Tim was Bobby's best friend,
A tough young guy,
But Bobby lost him in the war
And nobody knows why.
They never found his body,
Just his army tag,
When the Sargent found it,
Bobby packed his bag.
He didn't want to go on,
Not without his buddy,
So Bobby set out back home,
With his boots all muddy.
