My Son, John

My son, John, was a good boy, and good to me
When we had hard times, well, he stood by me
We were in work and out of work and on the go
If he had complaints, I never heard of one
He would pitch in and help me like a full grown man
My son, John. John, my son

My son, John, went to college and he made his way
Had to earn every penny, but he paid his way
He worked summers and holidays and through the year
And it was no easy struggle that he won
But he laughed at the ones who thought he had it hard
My son, John. John, my son

My son, John, got his uniform and went away
With a band playing marches, he was sent away
And he wrote me a letter, when he had the time
He was loosing his buddies one by one
And I prayed, and tried not to read between the lines
My son, John. John, my son

My son, John, came home yesterday; he's here to stay
Not a word, to his father, have I heard him say
He seems glad to be home, but I can't be sure
When I ask him what he'd seen and done
He went up to his bedroom, and he closed the door
My son, John, John my son
He went up to his bedroom, and he closed the door
My son, John, John my son