Poem number 440
The Honourable Day
Read By Pastor S. Heets
Duram Light Infantry
We gather today to mourn our comrades
Our brothers. We stand here in deep sorrow
But we stand. As this day ends and light fades
We stand. They fell to give us tomorrow,
A tomorrow that they will never see,
Our brothers. Good Tommies all. They are gone,
But what a grand tomorrow it shall be
If through their own deaths their dreams can live on.
Their dream were our dreams. They dreamt of a rest
From the harvest. An end to the slaughter.
Days in the garden where our very best
Need not fear the knives. The board. The water.
Where our children do not wake in the black
And scream after nightmares of oil and pans.
Where we need not fear the man with the sack
Nor dread the feel of his leather clad hands.
This was their dream. They died to prove its worth
So now we will carry on in their name.
All of their names. Our brothers of the earth.
If we cry for them we will feel no shame
For mourning is a part of life. And death.
And from our grief we draw the strength to fight
And if, like them, it costs us our last breath
Then so be it. An honourable night
Comes only from an honourable day.
We honour all who today gave their life.
We honour all those who were boiled away
We honour those who died under the knife
We honour the stewed, the chewed and the chopped
We honour all who’ve learned The Martyr’s ways
We honour all those whose life has been stopped
Today. At the Battle Of Bolognese.