Overtime

He was just a boy, all of twenty-one
Then the morning came, his number turned,
Mail out by the ton
Said we need you boy, country’s on the run
Spoke his last goodbye’s, now the time had come

Come now boy, don’t be afraid
There’s no need to worry, it’s just a routine air raid
Don’t worry boy, we’ll pay for your time
The job should be done by quarter to nine
You’ll get overtime

A letter back home, guess that I’m OK
Had to kill a man, did it yesterday
Looked right in his eyes and as he fell,
Tears were on his face
I just had to cry, seemed like such a waste

Come now boy, no need to sob
You knew it would happen, it’s just part of the job
Don’t worry boy, he paid for his crime
It’s a point for our team and besides
He got overtime

He was just a boy, all of twenty-one
Then the morning came, his number turned,
He knew his time had come
Put his name in stars, send the body home
Find another man, hurry back,
I think that I should phone

Oh you devils, our boy died in vain
Come now ma’am, surely I’m not to blame
You ought to be proud, your boy served us fine
He died for his country, by the way,
Here’s his overtime

Overtime
© 1980, Gil Namur

Photo Credit
Microsoft Office Clip Art Collection