Grave of the Gallant

In graveyard lonely, grey, and still,

Beneath the winter’s chill,

There lies entombed a man of old

Of whom the bravest tales were told

In generations gone.

In life, he gallant soldier was,

Like knight of ages past,

Whose sword was raised in battle grim

And drew his weary men to him

To fight, and win the day.

This man, who sleeps beneath the sod,

Who fought for love of God,

Defended right when all was lost

And steadfast stood, no matter cost,

Forgot should never be.

When brave men fall, and rest in earth,

And living turn to mirth,

Forgetting whence their freedom came,

Ignoring faith, and shunning pain,

Their doom shall swiftly fall.