| My son, John, was a good boy, and good to me
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| When we had hard times, well, he stood by me
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| We were in work and out of work and on the go
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| If he had complaints, I never heard of one
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| He would pitch in and help me like a full grown man
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| My son, John. |
| John, my son
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| My son, John, went to college and he made his way
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| Had to earn every penny, but he paid his way
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| He worked summers and holidays and through the year
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| And it was no easy struggle that he won
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| But he laughed at the ones who thought he had it hard
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| My son, John. |
| John, my son
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| My son, John, got his uniform and went away
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| With a band playing marches, he was sent away
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| And he wrote me a letter, when he had the time
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| He was loosing his buddies one by one
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| And I prayed, and tried not to read between the lines
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| My son, John. |
| John, my son
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| My son, John, came home yesterday; |
| he’s here to stay
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| Not a word, to his father, have I heard him say
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| He seems glad to be home, but I can’t be sure
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| When I ask him what he’d seen and done
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| He went up to his bedroom, and he closed the door
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| My son, John, John my son
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| He went up to his bedroom, and he closed the door
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| My son, John, John my son |