Good morning, Readers!
Image courtesy of cityofgp.com. Click for link.
Remembrance Day always fills me with a deep sadness and a profound feeling of gratitude.
Everything I am, everything I am able to do was paid for in blood and pain and terror. It was hard fought for and hard won.
And every year, we stand in remembrance of those who lost their lives fighting for our sake. And we stop to remember why they fought.
Still I feel one day a year is not enough. One simple ceremony is not enough.
It's not enough to honour the sacrifices of our fallen.
Shape your lives in the light of goodness, of openness, understanding, compassion and courage. Battle the evils of ignorance, of bigotry, injustice and cruelty; just as they did.
They fought in bloody battle. Our fight is easier.
Then, maybe, we'll come close to honouring all that was lost.
There's little else to say about this day, so I'll leave you with one of my favourite remembrance songs. The lyrics are below.
Everything I am, everything I am able to do was paid for in blood and pain and terror. It was hard fought for and hard won.
And every year, we stand in remembrance of those who lost their lives fighting for our sake. And we stop to remember why they fought.
Still I feel one day a year is not enough. One simple ceremony is not enough.
It's not enough to honour the sacrifices of our fallen.
Shape your lives in the light of goodness, of openness, understanding, compassion and courage. Battle the evils of ignorance, of bigotry, injustice and cruelty; just as they did.
They fought in bloody battle. Our fight is easier.
Then, maybe, we'll come close to honouring all that was lost.
There's little else to say about this day, so I'll leave you with one of my favourite remembrance songs. The lyrics are below.
Green Fields of France
Well, how do you do, Private William McBride,
Do you mind if I sit down here by your graveside?
And rest for awhile in the warm summer sun,
I've been walking all day, and I'm nearly done.
And I see by your gravestone you were only 19
When you joined the glorious fallen in 1916,
Well, I hope you died quick and I hope you died clean
Or, Willie McBride, was it slow and obscene?
Did they Beat the drum slowly, did the play the pipes lowly?
Did the rifles fir o'er you as they lowered you down?
Did the bugles sound The Last Post in chorus?
Did the pipes play the Flowers of the Forest?
And did you leave a wife or a sweetheart behind
In some loyal heart is your memory enshrined?
And, though you died back in 1916,
To that loyal heart are you forever 19?
Or are you a stranger without even a name,
Forever enshrined behind some glass pane,
In an old photograph, torn and tattered and stained,
And fading to yellow in a brown leather frame?
The sun's shining down on these green fields of France;
The warm wind blows gently, and the red poppies dance.
The trenches have vanished long under the plow;
No gas and no barbed wire, no guns firing now.
But here in this graveyard that'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, no 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?
Well 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.
Well, how do you do, Private William McBride,
Do you mind if I sit down here by your graveside?
And rest for awhile in the warm summer sun,
I've been walking all day, and I'm nearly done.
And I see by your gravestone you were only 19
When you joined the glorious fallen in 1916,
Well, I hope you died quick and I hope you died clean
Or, Willie McBride, was it slow and obscene?
Did they Beat the drum slowly, did the play the pipes lowly?
Did the rifles fir o'er you as they lowered you down?
Did the bugles sound The Last Post in chorus?
Did the pipes play the Flowers of the Forest?
And did you leave a wife or a sweetheart behind
In some loyal heart is your memory enshrined?
And, though you died back in 1916,
To that loyal heart are you forever 19?
Or are you a stranger without even a name,
Forever enshrined behind some glass pane,
In an old photograph, torn and tattered and stained,
And fading to yellow in a brown leather frame?
The sun's shining down on these green fields of France;
The warm wind blows gently, and the red poppies dance.
The trenches have vanished long under the plow;
No gas and no barbed wire, no guns firing now.
But here in this graveyard that'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, no 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?
Well 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.
Lest we forget.
RSS Feed