Remembrance ©

In every town and village square,
we offer up a silent prayer;
for those who sleep on foreign strand,
where lonely, pristine crosses stand.
We remember them.

They left their fishing nets unwound,
their ploughs and harrows in the ground;
and marched away with heads held high,
not thinking some of them would die.
We remember them.

Father, brother, lover, son,
why were they taken one by one?
As pipers play a sad refrain,
we hear the gunfire once again.
We remember them.

With passing years, our memories fade,
but we recall the price they paid.
We still remember them.