In 1943, I was called to serve in the army at Camp Borden
We left Winnipeg with nothing on our backs, 'cept the prairie dust kicking up from the tracks
The night before, we all stood in line and poured our canteens on the ground
But two of us slipped out when the train fuelled up, and we shared a beer out of some measuring cups
At the summer's end, my friend Stan and I hitched a ride down to Windsor
Met a kind young man and we sang German songs around the bonfire all night long
He told his folks that we were old school friends, then woke me up to ask my name
We returned to camp and stayed out of sight, then scaled the fence in the dead of night
Sergeant got the word to close the prisoner camp and he burned all the instruments that they played
And the camp doctor had a dog called Fritz they made us shoot just outside the sticks
'Cause he only answered to German calls
Rest easy Fritz, you peaceful soul
Some years after the war, I saw a prisoner's face; while bagging oranges at the marketplace