Thursday, November 13, 2008

Reprise, 11/11/08

Further to Armistice Day.

And now every April I sit on my porch
And I watch the parade pass before me
And I watch my old comrades, how proudly they march
Reliving old dreams of past glory
And the old men march slowly, all bent, stiff and sore
The forgotten heroes from a forgotten war
And the young people ask, "What are they marching for?"
And I ask myself the same question
And the band plays Waltzing Matilda
And the old men answer to the call
But year after year their numbers get fewer
Some day no one will march there at all
They're all gone now. And there are still marchers;
We will remember them.

This was prompted by the arrival of the following in my inbox:



I found this while looking for something else, which is how web-surfing works. What did we do before the web?

2 comments:

Nilk said...

Thanks so much for that, Kae.

Makes us stop and think about how little we really do sacrifice, doesn't it?

We had a minute silence at 11.00 on the 11th. We stood in the sun in a small circle with heads bowed and remembered and honoured.

My girl had a minute silence at school, too, and because they were selling poppies at school, she was allowed to have one of those, too.

I really don't understand how people can not respect the military and what they do for us. It's not rocket science, surely?

God bless our service men and women, because they truly do serve, and at enormous cost to themselves and their families.

mythusmage said...

From Eric Bogle's lyrics page (available as downloads in PDF.)

Now every April I sit on me porch
And I watch the parade pass before me
I see my old comrades how proudly they march
Reviving old dreams of past glories
The old men march slowly, their bones stiff and sore
Tired old men from a forgotten war
Young people ask, "What are they marching for?"
And I ask me self the same question

But the band plays Waltzin Matilda, the old men still answer the call
But year after year more old men disappear
Soon no one will march there at all.

Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda, who'll go a-waltzing Matilda with me?
And their ghosts may be heard as they march on by that billabong
Who'll go a-waltzing Matilda with me?


(Changes made so they match up with their original publication. Eric, after all, is a folk singer, and they have a reputation for messing up their own lyrics.)