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She walked to the mailbox |
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On that bright summers day |
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Found a letter from her son |
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In a war, far away |
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He spoke of the weather |
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And good friends that he'd made |
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Said, " I'd been thinking 'bout dadAnd the life that he had that's why, I'm here today" |
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And then in the end he said, "You are what I'm fighting for" |
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It was the first of his letters from war |
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She started writing |
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You're good and you're brave |
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What a father that you'll be someday |
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Make it home, make it safe |
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She wrote every night as she prayed |
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Late in December |
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A day, she'll not forget |
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Oh, her tears stained the paper |
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With every word that she read |
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It said, "I was up on a hill, I was out there aloneWhen the shots all rang out and bombs were explodingThat's when I saw him, he came back for meAnd though he was captured a man set me freeAnd that man was your son, he asked me to write to youI told him, I would, Oh, I swore" |
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It was the last of the letters from war |
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And she prayed, he was living, kept on believing |
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And wrote every night just to say |
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You are good and you're brave |
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What a father that you'll be someday |
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Make it home, make it safe |
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Still she kept writing each day |
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Then two years later |
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Autumn leaves, all around |
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A car pulled in the driveway |
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And she fell to the ground |
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And out stepped a captain |
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Where her boy used to stand |
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He said, "Mom, I'm followin' ordersFrom all of your letters and I've come home again" |
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He ran into hold her, dropped all his bags on the floor |
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Holdin' all of her letters from war |
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Bring him home |
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Bring him home |
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Bring him home |
