Down by the river in the early
morn.
The rifles crack as we look on.
Young men died to save the race.
Now they reside in this peaceful
place.
Amid shady trees and new mown
lawn.
Their names live on from here to
yon.
To rest our minds and remember
when,
They went away and didn’t
come back again.
I often remember that far away
time.
When we went down to the memorial
shine.
To honor the dead in their rest.
To honor their taking the ultimate
test.
Their faith and conviction was so
strong,
That they gave their lives for
what we stand on.
But I no longer go down to look
on.
Seeing old soldiers that have come
and gone.
And hear Taps played as time
marches on.
And jolt to the rifles’
crack into the yon.
When war is banished and we no
longer grieve.
And the last living soldier fades
to oblivion.
Will we still go down by the
river,
And look on?
5/27/01