Let them in, Peter   They are very tired   Give them couches where the angels sleep   And light those fires      Let them wake whole again   To brand new dawns   Fired by the sun not wartime's   Bloody guns      May their peace be deep   Remember where the broken bodies lie   God knows how young they were   To have to die   God knows how young they were   To have to die      So give them things they like   Let them make some noise   Give dance hall bands not golden harps   To ease our boys      And let them love, Peter   For they've had no time   They should have trees and bird songs   And hills to climb      The taste of summer in a ripened pear   And girls sweet as meadow wind   With flowing hair      And tell them how they are missed   But say not to fear   It's gonna be alright   With us down here      Let them in, Peter   Let them in, Peter   Let them in, Peter