Ben was an old war hero

He had seen lots of his comrades shot dead

These were the things he dreamed of

As he lay asleep in his bed

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And every Remembrance Day

A small wreath at the cenotaph he would lay

And as others marched on by

He would salute with more than a tear in his eye

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For time had not always been kind to him

For now he was living alone

But Ben was an old soldier

You would never hear him grumble or moan

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But one night as Ben lay sleeping

An intruder came into his house creeping

Ben was not rich; he never did have a lot

Things he most treasured, to him they took all he had got

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What mattered to Ben the most and made him very sore

Were the medals he received for fighting during the war

They meant so much to him; they were his biggest loss

More than anything else the one shaped like a cross

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It wasn’t long after, while out in the market one day

A youth came past wearing his medals

And bragging how they came his way.

 Ben only saw red that day

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He bravely confronted the youth

Like a sentry out on guard

The youth told him to go away

And called him a stupid old sod

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What happened next took the youth

And his mates by surprise

He had floored the lot

Just like swatting dead flies

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The youth was put behind bars

He deserved everything that he got

They might have been only medals

But to Ben they meant more than a lot

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