Fields of Valor

As I gaze o're the fields of valor, refuse and signs of war,
I remember some fought for glamour, while others looked for more.
Among the parapets and foxholes, the fields, valleys and no-mans land,
I can nearly hear the screams and battle cries, of man's inhumanity to man.

From the earliest of times, to the end of times,
many are lost in life's prime, for all who parish, the tower bells chime.
The call to arms e'er present, is answered by the brave and the bold.
They come from the cities, hills, and valley's, not all live to be old.

From Boston, Valley Forge, and Yorktown, to frozen Chosin, and Tripoli times three.
Time stands still for no one, not Soldier, Sailor, Airman or Marine.
The air permeates with the scent of cordite, smoke and powder of shells,
in the distance, even the pungent odor, of rice paddy smells.

Ground shaking and quaking, bursting bombs and rockets red glare.
From bombers, fighters, and attack planes, not only choppers filled the air.
Troops of ground, sea and paraloft, o'er the years, they've all done their share.
Many times Patriots answered the call, a constitution to serve, and arms to bear.

Marching through swamp and sand, thoughts and memories of a military band.
Next we're moving o're hills and dales, or trekking the Buffalo trails.
Deadly battles fought on every continent, and across the seven seas,
Our leaders strong, sound and competent, twas to God we found our knees.

A box and a small plot of ground, a flag, a bugle and a rifle volley sound,
plush green grass o'er long lien slopes, eternal rest thoughts provoke.
Intrepid and dauntless they served, with courage and honor beyond reproach,
a plot of land justly deserved, upon the fields of valor, arrival, by coach.