I stood upon the hills of the battleground today.
A place where the Blue and Gray fought each other.
I heard hundreds of cannons roar throughout the day.
I heard the cries of the dying as brother fought brother.
In the windy air, I heard the wings of death.
In the fog of the morning, I saw the spirits of those who died.
In the sigh of the wind, I heard their last lingering breath.
Even in the end, they died with a sense of soldierly pride.
They fought to preserve something they felt was worth dying for.
Saying goodbye to families, children and wives,
they trekked out to meet what destiny had in store.
In doing so, they gave up their future and their lives.
I saw statues of men who died in the midst of chaos, strife and cannon smoke.
I heard stories of bravery and acts of kindness in midst of the dark and the light.
I read of tales told over campfires, of lively songs, and here and there a witty joke.
I took pleasure in a now peaceful countryside that once wasn’t so sunny and bright.
The visit to the battleground affected me in a lot of ways.
Funny, I don’t think it was about the loss of lives that struck me so much.
It was the sacrifice that each man who died gave in that smoky haze....
as they walked into certain death, far away from their loved ones touch.
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Be blessed,
Betty
.............................................
The Sound Of The Drum
I
The cannon are a roaring,
The battle has begun,
I must stand and fight
to protect hill 101,
and though I'm afraid
and I don't want to die,
The sound of the beating drum
makes me stand my ground with pride.
.....................................
(Chorus with drum roll and lead voice
repeated after each stanza)
.....................................
Drummer boy, play your drum,
Play it loud, play it clear, through the night,
Play it hard, play it strong,
Play it all through the long lonely fight.
II
My comrades all are falling,
A thousand men have died,
Bombs bursting all around me
make me want to run and hide,
And though I'm afraid
and I don't want to die,
The sound of the beating drum
makes me stand my ground with pride.
III
My best friend Bill lies dying,
His screams rend the air,
He's calling to his mother
as the tears fill my eyes,
And though I'm afraid
and I don't want to die,
The sound of the beating drum
makes me stand my ground with pride.
IV
The battle keeps a raging,
By a bullet I am struck,
I feel myself a slipping
into the eternal night,
And though I'm afraid
and I don't want to die,
The sound of the beating drum
makes me stand my ground with pride.
V
For me the guns are silent,
My soul is safe from harm,
And I'll live forever
but I'll never forget,
That though I was afraid
and I didn't want to die,
The sound of the beating drum
made me stand my ground with pride.
...............................
Repeat Chorus and drum roll
Drum Roll from Crescendo to minuendo
Close with sound of trumpet
......................................
I've visited Shiloh,
Walking around the graves,
I could sense the horrors of
war and death
Jack
oh I am so glad you posted this it is wonderful. AND POWERFUL WRITE.
Will see you in 2003 take care lady and Keep writing.. Happy Halloween
Hugs Peg