LEST WE FORGET

He was getting old and paunchy
And his hair was falling fast,
And he sat around the Legion,
Telling stories of the past.

Of a war that he once fought in
And the deeds that he had done,
In his exploits with his buddies;
They were heroes, every one.

And 'tho sometimes to his neighbors
His tales became a joke,
All his buddies listened quietly
For they knew whereof he spoke.

But we'll hear his tales no longer,
For ol' Bob has passed away,
And the world's a little poorer
For a Soldier died today.

He won't be mourned by many,
Just his children and his wife.
For he lived an ordinary,
Very quiet sort of life..

He held a job and raised a family,
Going quietly on his way;
And the world won't note his passing,
'Tho a Soldier died today.

When politicians leave this earth,
Their bodies lie in state,
While thousands note their passing,
And proclaim that they were great.

Papers tell of their life stories
From the time that they were young
But the passing of a Soldier
Goes unnoticed, and unsung.

Is the greatest contribution
To the welfare of our land,
Some jerk who breaks his promise
And cons his fellow man?

Or the ordinary fellow
Who in times of war and strife,
Goes off to serve his country
And offers up his life?

The politician's stipend
And the style in which he lives,
Are often disproportionate,
To the service that he gives.

While the ordinary Soldier,
Who offered up his all,
Is paid off with a medal
And perhaps a pension, small.

It's so easy to forget them,
For it is so many times
That our Bobs and Jim's and Johnny's,
Went to battle, but we know,

It is not the politicians
With their compromise and ploys,
Who won for us the freedom
That our country now enjoys.

Should you find yourself in danger,
With your enemies at hand,
Would you really want some cop-out,
With his ever waffling stand?

Or would you want a Soldier--
His home, his country, his kin,
Just a common Soldier,
Who would fight until the end.

He was just a common Soldier,
And his ranks are growing thin,
But his presence should remind us
We may need his like again.

For when countries are in conflict,
We find the Soldier's part
Is to clean up all the troubles
That the politicians start.

If we cannot do him honour
While he's here to hear the praise,
Then at least let's give him homage
At the ending of his days.

Perhaps just a simple headline
In the paper that might say:
"OUR COUNTRY IS IN MOURNING,
A SOLDIER DIED TODAY."
ANON

REMBERING: LEST WE FORGET NOV. 11

Please Wear A Poppy  

"Please wear a poppy," the lady said

And held one forth, but I shook my head.

Then I stopped and watched as she offered them there,

And her face was old and lined with care;

But beneath the scars the years had made

There remained a smile that refused to fade.

A boy came whistling down the street,

Bouncing along on care-free feet.

His smile was full of joy and fun,

"Lady," said he, "may I have one?"

When she's pinned it on he turned to say,

"Why do we wear a poppy today?"

The lady smiled in her wistful way

And answered, "This is Remembrance Day,

And the poppy there is the symbol for

The gallant men who died in war.

And because they did, you and I are free -

That's why we wear a poppy, you see.

"I had a boy about your size,

With golden hair and big blue eyes.

He loved to play and jump and shout,

Free as a bird he would race about.

As the years went by he learned and grew

And became a man - as you will, too.

"He was fine and strong, with a boyish smile,

But he'd seemed with us such a little while

When war broke out and he went away.

I still remember his face that day

When he smiled at me and said, Goodbye,

I'll be back soon, Mom, so please don't cry.

"But the war went on and he had to stay,

And all I could do was wait and pray.

His letters told of the awful fight,

(I can see it still in my dreams at night),

With the tanks and guns and cruel barbed wire,

And the mines and bullets, the bombs and fire.

"Till at last, at last, the war was won-

And that's why we wear a poppy son."

The small boy turned as if to go,

Then said, "Thanks, lady, I'm glad to know.

That sure did sound like an awful fight,

But your son - did he come back all right?"

A tear rolled down each faded cheek;

She shook her head, but didn't speak.

I slunk away in a sort of shame,

And if you were me you'd have done the same;

For our thanks, in giving, if oft delayed,

Thought our freedom was bought - and thousands paid!

And so when we see a poppy worn,

Let us reflect on the burden borne,

By those who gave their very all

When asked to answer their country's call

That we at home in peace might live.

Then wear a poppy! Remember - and give!

                                          by Don Crawford