I grow old as they stay the same
Men that breathe as boys
For precept they gained yet the barrel still waned
But the herald still lives with their noise
And the songs of our fathers and fellow countrymen
What sing gaudy through the canon
Why shant the lauded echoes pipe for me?
As it’s nay about me, it shouts for them
By them I mean the choosing and chosen squaddies
Striving for the sake of the union
What good is the Victoria Cross, when all we have is loss
And their death shall hold no communion
The Musings of Redmoor 