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?