I sense one more Memorial Day
Down here in dark and dank decay,
Beneath the sod and granite stones
That mark the spot where my old bones
Are resting from my mortal toil,
Here in my native rocky soil.
And if I listen carefully,
Soft voices filter down to me.
It only happens once a year
That folks take time to visit here
To honor those of us who died
For freedom where it was denied.
I'm sure the lilacs are in bloom,
But there's no essence in my tomb,
But flowers from my next of kin
Will grace this hallowed place I'm in.
Old Glory, I am sure, will wave
In miniature above my grave.
And I was proud when our flag flew
With stars and stripes and field of blue.
I wonder, this Memorial Day,
How many stars are on display
'Twas forty-eight, I'll have you know
That draped my casket years ago.
And as I lie in this cold bed,
The dreams now running through my head
Of battles that we bravely fought
And freedom that we dearly bought
Are haunted with the blood and gore
That we left on that foreign shore.
The sounds of marching bands now seep
Into my tomb to stir my sleep.
The snare drums and the bass drum beat
A cadence for the marching feet.
That old familiar muffled sound
Reverberates down through the ground.
And then I hear the rifles shoot
Three volleys in a sharp salute
For those of us who heard the call
And on the battlefield did fall.
As fallen soldiers take their ease
In foreign graveyards overseas.
And as I slowly turn to dust,
The medals on my chest to rust,
I wonder if the freedom won
Someday will all become undone,
And blood from warriors who were slain
Was spilt on battlefields in vain.
But what it is I mostly fear
Is some May day, some future year,
I'll not be wakened by some band,
And freedom will have left this land.
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