To walk these fields together
to go hand in hand just you and I,
And know that once sometime before us
brave me stood here to die.
I can feel the earth begin to tremble
remembering the days gone by,
and how the brave men stood assembled
to fight their foe and live or die.
It must have been
a day for crying
when all the brave men
lay there dying.
The generals
hung their heads in shame
knowing that
they were to blame.
The mothers tears
fell all around.
The dead boys lay there
on the ground,
And all the grass
was stained with red,
from all the wounded
as they bled.
Some days when
the earth is quiet,
and no more do
the soldiers riot,
I think I hear
the sound of guns
but the marching feet
never come.
These hills are filled
with many ghosts
the victors and
the losers boasts.
They walk these fields
with faces grim
Some fought and lost,
some died to win.
Some days when
the sun is out
Squirrels parade
and march about.
The paths they walk
tell many a story,
The brave who walk
the paths of glory.