Toast to the Fallen
 

"Holds Bud Light Up"

"The land of hills, glens, and heroes; where the ptarmigan thrives and where the red deer finds shelter; as long as mist hangs o'er the mountains and water runs in the glens, may the deeds of its brave be remembered, and health and victory be with the lads of the Cabar Feidh."

To those who've gone before - and the rest of us who'll follow after.

"To the fallen!"

Land of the Free - Because of the Brave

For the Fallen and Old Times Past
 

For the Fallen (Originally published in The Times on 21 September 1914)

(2 selected stanzas)
They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted,
They fell with their faces to the foe.

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old;
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.

And of course, on this night and Burn's night...

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And auld lang syne!

For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne.
We'll take a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.

For Dad and all the fallen...

To the fallen...may you be at peace wherever you are.

To the fallen.

To the fallen

Amen

To the fallen, there far to many.

Rest in peace brothers.

Rest in Peace my brothers. You are not forgotten.


Ich hatt' einen Kameraden
von Ludwig Uhland

Ich hatt' einen Kameraden,
Einen bessern findst du nit.
Die Trommel schlug zum Streite,
Er ging an meiner Seite
In gleichem Schritt und Tritt.

Eine Kugel kam geflogen:
Gilt's mir oder gilt es dir?
Ihn hat es weggerissen,
Er liegt vor meinen Füßen
Als wär's ein Stück von mir

Will mir die Hand noch reichen,
Derweil ich eben lad'.
"Kann dir die Hand nicht geben,
Bleib du im ew'gen Leben
Mein guter Kamerad!"


I Had a Comrade
Translation by Frank Petersohn

In battle he was my comrade,
None better I have had.
The drum called us to fight,
He always on my right,
In step, through good and bad.

A bullet it flew towards us,
For him or meant for me?
His life from mine it tore,
At my feet a piece of gore,
As if a part of me.

His hand reached up to hold mine.
I must re-load my gun.
"My friend, I cannot ease your pain,
In life eternal we'll meet again,
And walk once more as one."

To the Fallen
SnT

The pockets of our great coats full of barley
No kitchens on the run, no striking camp
We moved quickly and sudden in our country.
The priest lay behind the ditches with the tramp
A people hardly marching on the hike
We found new tactics happening every day:
We'd cut through reins and rider with the pike
And stampede cattle into infantry,
Then retreat through hedges where cavalry must be thrown.
Until at Vinegar Hill, the fatal conclave.
Terraced thousands died, shaking scythes against cannon.
The hillside blushed, soaked in our broken wave.
They buried us without shroud or coffin
But in August the barley grew up out of the grave.

To our blessed fallen comrades!

If you are able,
save them a place
inside of you
and save one backward glance
when you are leaving
for the places they can
no longer go.

Be not ashamed to say
you loved them,
though you may
or may not have always.

Take what they have left
and what they have taught you
with their dying
and keep it with your own.

And in that time
when men decide and feel safe
to call the war insane,
take one moment to embrace
those gentle heroes
you left behind.

Major Michael Davis O'Donnell
1 January 1970
Dak To, Vietnam

To the fallen,
John 15:13

To the fallen and those serving