We played together, you and I, my son,

From early morn till day was done.

What boundless love was ours, what joy, what fun;

Together, you and I, my son.

It seems but only yesterday that I

Bought you an aeroplane to fly.

You were eleven. I still see your eyes

So bright as your craft flew the skies.

You did not flinch when called to do or die,

(So proud was I at your reply);

But took your wings to battle in the sky.

I only wish ‘twere you and I.

I too, must fight, and pray to God that we

May be united when ‘tis done.

I also humbly pray that He make me

As great a man as you, my son.

Written by Bernard D. Cropper, 2nd Lt., R.A., the father of P/O. Douglas Cropper killed whilst flying with 609 Squadron over France on 16th August 1941.