The Fallen

The Fallen He kneels before an oblong 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, Lie here today Their spirits never yields He see them as, they were back then Young and strong and brave Not what lie beneath the oblong 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