kvinnorna

Soldathjärta. I en rökig lokal, längst in dit ingen längre når. Där ljuset är dovt och dimmigt och timmen sen. Längtande, värkande, förlorade soldathjärtan. På scenen hörs:

”Oh Napoleon Bonaparte, you´re the cause of my woe. Since my bonny light horseman in the war, he did go. Broken-hearted I’ll wander, broken-hearted I’ll remain. Since my bonny light horseman in the war he was slain.

And the white dove laments for her mate as she flies. Tell me where in this wide world is my own true love, she cries. And where in this wide world is there one who can compare, with my bonny light horseman who was slain in the war?”