Any news of Tommy? Just this telegram!

All brown and neat but oh so black.

They seem to forget that I’m his Mam.

Handed to me by that post-boy Sam,

Knocked on our door, peddled down the track.

Any news of Tommy? Just this telegram!

Came over all faint, had to lean on the jamb,

When stuck in my hand from out of his sack.

They seem to forget that I’m his Mam.

Perhaps he’s not dead, led like a poor lamb,

Only bloodied in a small attack?

Any news of Tommy? Just this telegram!

Tore off the edge, hope shored the dam.

A few polite lines; he’s never coming back.

They seem to forget that I’m his Mam.

Down to the floor, my head just swam.

"Oh, Mrs Atkins! I’ll run and get Jack."

Any news of Tommy? Just this telegram!

They seem to forget that I’m his Mam.