-
Anil Bartwal -
kender1 - Nasty Natasha
- Lisa Taylor
-
arete5000 -
Tim High - eddy smith
-
Peter -
Wild Bill Kerr - kender1
-
-
What I'm Raeding Today15 years ago
-
-
.11 years ago
-
-
-
Those Whom The Gods Wish To Destroy ...8 years ago
-
If You Don't Change Your RSS Feed...15 years ago
-
-
Ministry11 years ago
-
Lacuna5 years ago
-
-
Petition to Stop Judicial Tyranny19 years ago
-
tazmedic12 years ago
-
-
-
-
-
America's New Diet16 years ago
-
Posts
All Comments
Posted by
kender
He awoke before dawn as he usually did
But today wasn't just any day
He showered and shaved with shaky old hands
And went to the bed where it lay
A uniform worn by the passage of years
Slightly faded, lay in all its glory
The ribbons upon it were starting to fade
But to him it told quite a story
He was a kid in June '44
Storming a beach head in france
When the fighting was done he put down his gun
While a french girl taught him to dance
A few short years later he fought in the snow
And become one of the Chosin Few
He thinks on those days when the weather is cold
And winter is breaking anew
He fought them in Nam as the monsoons poured down
While the media at home slurred his name
Never doubting his mission he had no regrets
He retired without any shame
Today he will ride down the main street of town
As the folks on the sidewalk all cheer
Tomorrow they'll not recognize him at all
It happens like this every year
But he doesn't care he knows what he did
In all of those far away lands
And he smiles as he buttons his uniform up
With his heroic, shaky old hands
But today wasn't just any day
He showered and shaved with shaky old hands
And went to the bed where it lay
A uniform worn by the passage of years
Slightly faded, lay in all its glory
The ribbons upon it were starting to fade
But to him it told quite a story
He was a kid in June '44
Storming a beach head in france
When the fighting was done he put down his gun
While a french girl taught him to dance
A few short years later he fought in the snow
And become one of the Chosin Few
He thinks on those days when the weather is cold
And winter is breaking anew
He fought them in Nam as the monsoons poured down
While the media at home slurred his name
Never doubting his mission he had no regrets
He retired without any shame
Today he will ride down the main street of town
As the folks on the sidewalk all cheer
Tomorrow they'll not recognize him at all
It happens like this every year
But he doesn't care he knows what he did
In all of those far away lands
And he smiles as he buttons his uniform up
With his heroic, shaky old hands
Labels:
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
