Bolivia
We were soldiers together
Old Simpson and me,
We met up again by chance
When the Army set us free.
Our friendship continued
As though without pause,
Not quite yet real civilians
We both needed a cause.
Youth is wasted on the young
But what the hell
I remember being young,
So very very well.
Young and daft
And full of drink
We never bothered
To really stop and think.
We were off to Bolivia
Old Simpson and me,
Off to fight with Che,
To set the peasants free.
Young, idealistic and drunk
A pledge that seemed so right
Had lost much of its allure by
Next dawn's sober light.
But we were going to Bolivia;
That Simpson fell in love
A believer might just say, was
An intervention from above.
Che was betrayed by
Those he fought to free.
We'd have been long dead
By then, Old Simpson and me.
I miss my old friend,
Now so sadly passed,
But out in those jungles
How long would we last.
But, what is youth for
If not for wild schemes,
For howling at the moon and
Dreaming crazy pipe dreams.
We were going to Bolivia
Nowadays it sound absurd
But in those young, idealist days
We meant every single word.
We were going to Bolivia
To fight, almost certainly to die,
But in youth and strong friendship
We never thought to question why.
Simpson’s gone before me,
Fidel and Che long dead,
But those memories still
Swirl around in my head.
Against all the odds
Somehow I’m still alive,
Against all the odds
I’ve managed to survive.
Copyright © Terry Ireland | Year Posted 2022
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