The Fallen
The Fallen
He kneels before an granite stone
As if before a throne
He dreams of days of yesteryear
But glad, now he is home
So many lads, had stayed behind
To never leave the field
And though their bodies, are lying here
Their spirits never yields
He see them as, they were back then, Young and strong and brave
Not what lie beneath this stone, Below this grassy grave
He knows they, are still on guard, He counts them all, as kin
And savers every day at home
Until he joins them, once again
He wipes away a single tear
As he stands up tall and straight
Remembering that dear young boy
And his final fate
Although many years go by
And his brother has to wait
He promises it won't be long
Till he meets him at the gates
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