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.