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Joined: Jun 2004
Posts: 16,740
Campfire Ranger
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OP
Campfire Ranger
Joined: Jun 2004
Posts: 16,740 |
I'll hoist a few for the brave ANZAC's and break out my dvd, "LIGHTHORSEMEN".
For The Fallen With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children, England mourns for her dead across the sea. Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit, Fallen in the cause of the free.
Solemn the drums thrill: Death august and royal Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres. There is music in the midst of desolation And a glory that shines upon our tears.
They went with songs to the battle, they were young, Straight of limb, true of eye, 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.
They mingle not with their laughing comrades again; They sit no more at familiar tables at home; They have no lot in our labour of the day-time; They sleep beyond England's foam.
But where our desires are and our hopes profound, Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight, To the innermost heart of their own land they are known As the stars are known to the Night;
As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust, Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain, As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness, To the end, to the end, they remain.
Laurence Binyon (1869-1943)
A government is the most dangerous threat to man�s rights: it holds a legal monopoly on the use of physical force against legally disarmed victims.
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Joined: Dec 2003
Posts: 17,230
Campfire Ranger
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Campfire Ranger
Joined: Dec 2003
Posts: 17,230 |
and another poem for ANZAC day
The Band Played Waltzing Matilda
When I was a young man I carried my pack And lived the free life of the rover From the Murray's Green Basin to the dusty outback I waltzed my Matilda all over Then in 1915 my country said "Son, It's time to stop rambling, there's work to be done." So they gave me a tin hat and they gave me a gun And they sent me away to the war
And the band played Waltzing Matilda As the ship pulled away from the quay Amidst all the cheers, flag waving and tears We sailed off for Gallipoli
It's well I remember that terrible day Our blood stained the sands and the waters And how in that hell that they called Souvla Bay We were butchered like lambs at the slaughter Johnny Turkey' was ready, he'd primed himself well He rained us with bullets and he showered us with shell And in five minutes flat he'd blown us all to hell Nearly blew us right back to Australia
And the band played Waltzing Matilda As we stopped to bury our slain We buried ours and the Turks buried theirs Then it started all over again
Those who were living did their best to survive In that mad world of death, blood and fire For ten weary weeks I kept myself alive While around me the corpses piled higher Then a big Turkish shell knocked me arse-over-head And when I awoke in my hospital bed And saw what it had done, Christ, I wished I was dead Never knew there were worse things than dying
For no more I'll go waltzing Matilda All around the green bush far and near For to hang tents and pegs a man needs two legs No more waltzing Matilda for me
They collected the wounded, the crippled and maimed And shipped us back home to Australia The armless, the legless, the blind and insane The proud, wounded heroes of Souvla And as our ship pulled into Circular Quay I looked at the place where my legs used to be And thanked Christ there was no one there waiting for me To mourn and to grieve and to pity
And the band played Waltzing Matilda As they carried us down the gangway But nobody cheered, they just stood there and stared Then they turned all their faces away
So now every April I sit on my porch And watch the parade pass before me I see my old comrades, how proudly they march Reliving their days of past glory I see the old men all twisted and torn The tired old heroes of a forgotten war And the young people ask me "What are they marching for?" And I ask myself the same question
And the band plays Waltzing Matilda And the old men still answer the call Year after year, their numbers get fewer Some day no one will march there at all
Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda Who'll go a'waltzing Matilda with me?
-Eric Bogle
...Actually Sycamore, you are sort of right....
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