To The Heroes

Alas, we stood in horror, But thy pride—we stood to honour. Memories passed away as legends, but these heroes are not forgotten. From the gun fires and wild gases, Thou wast the pride of our hearts. Here we are now—hiding from enemies’ roar, yet we cannot flee to comfort; If so, how can we protect our home— Our families, friends, and loved ones, dreamt of us home and embracing in hope? O, in Vietnam we wept— for great warriors had fallen. O, how can we forget their bravery— men who stood in treachery to give life to their home? O, hear me, for my heart finds no comfort here, neither doth it wish to be free, men from the beautiful lands of Bree, Now resting in the heart of the earth. When I behold our people—whom we fought for— that they sing not of our honour, neither remember our sacrifice, I wished they knew of the warriors fair— men who fought with one arm left, cared not for self nor death. Now heroes sleep in the streets. O, how evil could repay a hero? O, Vietnam, hail those who fell on thy land— the ones whose people have forgotten, the heroes whose families weep now. But in honour, we shall sing of their golden hearts. O, great soldiers—alas, ye are gone. Sleep ye in everlasting peace; sleep and rest in the hands warm. May ye wander not in unknown lands, And may ye be honoured as kings and queens. Bless your hearts, O soldiers pure.