Louis was my dearest friend Fighting in the anzac trench. Louis ran forward from the line, And i never saw him again. Later in the dark I thought i heard louis' voice Calling for his mother, then me, But i couldn't get to him. He's still up on that hill. 20 years on that hill. Nothing more than a pile of bones, But i think of him still. If i was asked i'd tell The colour of the earth that day; It was dull, and browny-red, "the colour of blood" i'd say