Louis was my dearest friend

Fighting in the anzac trench

Louis ran forward from the line

I never saw him again

Later in the dark

I thought I heard louis' voice

Calling for his mother, then me

But I couldn't get to him

He's still up on that hill

Twenty years on that hill

Nothing more than a pile of bones

But I think of him still

If I was asked I'd tell

The colour of the earth that day

It was dull and browny red

The colour of blood, I'd say.