27-10-2011, 08:46 PM
1
Remembrance Day. Lest we forget.
They went with songs to the battle, they were young.Straight of limb, true of eyes, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted,
They fell with their faces to the foe.
They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning,
We will remember them.
Remembering a great uncle and his crew mates who perished aboard HMS Aboukir and also the crews of HMS Cressy and Hogue all on the 22nd September 1914.
Also Uncle's Harry, John and Herbie.
Remembering as well, Grandad 'H' who came back, 'changed' they said but back nonetheless.
Remembering, the kitchen lean-to where you taught me all those dirty songs whilst polishing those boots.
Remembering, the pocket watch you gave me that still does not work.
Remembering you old lad.
28-10-2011, 08:45 AM
2
Re: Remembrance Day. Lest we forget.
In Flanders Fieldsby John McCrae, May 1915
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
28-10-2011, 06:48 PM
3
Re: Remembrance Day. Lest we forget.
The Final Inspection
The soldier stood and faced his God
Which must always come to pass
He hoped his shoes were shining
Just as brightly as his brass
"Step foward now you soldier,
How shall I deal with you?
Have you always turned the other cheek,
And to my church have you been true?"
The soldier squared his shoulders and said,
"No Lord, I guess I ain't,
Because those of us who carry guns,
Can't always be saints
"I've had to work most Sundays
And at times my talk was tough
And sometimes I've been violent
Because the streets were awfully rough"
But I never took a penny,
That was'nt mine to keep
Though I worked a lot of overtime
When the bills just got to steep,
And I never passed a cry for help
Although, at times I shook with fear
And sometimes, God forgive
I've wept unmanly tears
I know I don't deserve a place
Among the people here
That never wanted me around
Except to calm there fears
If you have a place for me here O' Lord
It needn't be so grand
I've never expected, or had so much
But if you don't I'll understand"
There was a silence all around the throne
Where the Saints had often trod
As this soldier waited quietly
For the judgment from his God
"Step foward now you soldier,
You've borne your
burdens well
Walk peacefully on Heaven's streets,
You've done your time in Hell"
28-10-2011, 06:55 PM
4
Re: Remembrance Day. Lest we forget.
A timely reminder indeed, thank you Hammer.We support the Legion all through the year, but this time of the year represents the pinnacle of our work and is certainly the most poignant.
I bless all of our service people who risk their lives in our name, and I urge you to give whatever you can in support of the Poppy Appeal to care for those that have suffered....
30-10-2011, 09:58 PM
6
Re: Remembrance Day. Lest we forget.
POPPIESWhy are they selling poppies, mother? Selling poppies in town today?
The poppy, my child, is the flower of love for the men, who marched away.
Why did they choose a poppy, mother? Why not a beautiful rose?
Because, my child, men fought and died in the fields, where the poppy grows.
But why is the poppy so red?
Red is the colour of blood, my child, the blood that our soldiers shed.
The heart of the poppy is black mother. Why does it have to be black?
Black is the symbol of grief, my child, for the men, who never came back.
But why, mother dear, are you crying so? Your tears are like winter rain.
My tears are my fears for you, my child, for the world is forgetting again.
30-10-2011, 11:22 PM
7
Re: Remembrance Day. Lest we forget.
The Green Fields of France
by Eric Bogle (written 1975)
Well, how ya doing, Private William McBride?
Do you mind if I sit here, down by your graveside?
And I'll rest for a while in the warm summer sun,
I've been walking all day, Lord, and I'm nearly done.
I see by your gravestone, you were only nineteen,
When you joined the glorious fallen in 1916.
Well I hope you died quick and I hoped you died clean.
Or Willie McBride, was it slow and obscene?
Did they beat the drum slowly?
Did they sound the fife lowly?
Did the rifles fire o'er ye as they lowered ye down?
Did the bugle sing Last Post and chorus?
Did the pipes play the Fleurs o' the Forest?
And did you leave a wife or a sweetheart behind?
In some faithful heart is your memory enshrined?
And though you died back in 1916,
To that loyal heart, are you always 19?
Or are you a stranger, without even a name,
Forever enshrined behind some glass pane,
In an old photograph, torn, 'n' tattered and stained,
And fading to yellow in a brown leather frame?
Well the sun's shining now on these Green Fields of France.
The warm wind blows gently and the red poppies dance.
The trenches have vanished long under the plough.
No gas and no barbed wire, no guns firing now.
But here in this graveyard it's still No Man's Land,
The countless white crosses in mute witness stand.
To man's blind indifference to his fellow man,
And a whole generation who were butchered and damned.
And I can't help but wonder now Willie McBride,
Do all those who lie here, know why they died?
Did you really believe them when they told you the cause?
Did you really believe that this war would end wars?
The suffering, the sorrow, the glory, the shame,
The killing, the dying, it was all done in vain.
For Willie McBride it all happened again,
And again and again and again and again…
by Eric Bogle (written 1975)
Well, how ya doing, Private William McBride?
Do you mind if I sit here, down by your graveside?
And I'll rest for a while in the warm summer sun,
I've been walking all day, Lord, and I'm nearly done.
I see by your gravestone, you were only nineteen,
When you joined the glorious fallen in 1916.
Well I hope you died quick and I hoped you died clean.
Or Willie McBride, was it slow and obscene?
Did they beat the drum slowly?
Did they sound the fife lowly?
Did the rifles fire o'er ye as they lowered ye down?
Did the bugle sing Last Post and chorus?
Did the pipes play the Fleurs o' the Forest?
And did you leave a wife or a sweetheart behind?
In some faithful heart is your memory enshrined?
And though you died back in 1916,
To that loyal heart, are you always 19?
Or are you a stranger, without even a name,
Forever enshrined behind some glass pane,
In an old photograph, torn, 'n' tattered and stained,
And fading to yellow in a brown leather frame?
Well the sun's shining now on these Green Fields of France.
The warm wind blows gently and the red poppies dance.
The trenches have vanished long under the plough.
No gas and no barbed wire, no guns firing now.
But here in this graveyard it's still No Man's Land,
The countless white crosses in mute witness stand.
To man's blind indifference to his fellow man,
And a whole generation who were butchered and damned.
And I can't help but wonder now Willie McBride,
Do all those who lie here, know why they died?
Did you really believe them when they told you the cause?
Did you really believe that this war would end wars?
The suffering, the sorrow, the glory, the shame,
The killing, the dying, it was all done in vain.
For Willie McBride it all happened again,
And again and again and again and again…
31-10-2011, 09:00 PM
9
Re: Remembrance Day. Lest we forget.
''Remembrance Day. Lest we forget''.
In 1914 a number of my family members belonged to the local band, Grampa, Dad and his brother who were still boys, Uncles and Cousins .
When WWI came many of them proudly marched away some never to return.
One Sunday afternoon shortly after the war ended the band was playing in the local park, youths who had been too young to go to war and the luck few men who had returned.
It was late autumn, the sun was setting and families were starting to think of heading home.
Two of the band members, cornet players left the park . The remainder began playing the hymn ‘Abide with me’ as a tribute to the fallen.
Across the park drifted an echo as the cornets playing a descant. Not a soul moved, the golden leaves fell along with the tears as all stood silent remembering those who were lost and hopes that would never be fulfilled....
Dad told me this story, he was one of the Bandsmen.
No, some of us will never forget..
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