When a Beau goes in,
Into the drink,
It makes you think,
Because, you see, they always sink
But nobody says 'Poor lad'
Or goes about looking sad
Because, you see, it's war,
It's the unalterable law,
Although it's perfectly certain
The pilot's gone for a Burton
And the observer too
It's nothing to do with you
And if they both should go
To a land where falls no rain
nor hail
nor driven snow -
Here, there, or anywhere,
Do you suppose they care?
You shouldn't cry
Or say a prayer or sigh.
In the cold dark sea, in the dark
It isn't a lark
But it isn't original sin -
It's just a Beau going in.
Gavin Ewart