The boy about whom I gonna talk Is not the one I always thought,
He was born not to become a slave, rather a warrior to save.
He is tall, muscular and charming.
Like a young Lochinver, whom each girl thinks to be scintillating.
This is a story not about a reclusive,
but about the one who is appreciative.
He grew with great courage, under his mother's caress.
And now he fervently looks at her, thanking for her compassion and cheers.
People started to call him a commando, when they used to see his gusto,
the rest of his life. With a mutinous eyes , he used to stand upright.
Near the border of his country, ready to reprimand the bustling fights.
In the same land where he rendered his duty,
he found a chirpy lady.
He was now in love with her.
With his hysterical attitude towards her.
Both of them used to spend their days, dreaming, under a sychamore tree.
With their fingers tightly closed, looking at each other continuously.
A time came when there was a great depression.
The enemies declared the country's suppression.
This time, the commando can't wait anymore, to see the horror and the roar.
He jumped off bristling with his rifle in his hands.
Surreptitiously he made his way on, towards that cynical.
And vanquished that detestable one.
Rummaging towards another reprobate,
he fails to shoot the one beside the gate,
Ah! that was a scandalizing moment.
The commando dropped his rifle, dropped himself down.
With a ludicrous look at the culprit, fumbling for words, griping and cursing him for his tactic.
Hearing the outcome of the war,
the commando's girl came near the door.
Where he was lying motionless,
with a tricolor sheet over him whole.
Bursting into tears,
she planted a kiss on his forehead.
The bereavement that the girl was undergoing,
can't be explained in any tirades.
He was a commando!
A commando, known for his gusto.