In the cold half light of morning within the empty street
The sound of muffled voices, the Tramp of marching feet
This is not an Army going off to War,
But all these men are soldiers; the ones that went before
They go not forth to Battle against some dreaded foe
But only to remember comrades of long ago.
The ones who fought beside them in strange and foreign lands
In steamy Tropic jungles or burning desert sands.
In ships on tossing oceans or planes in the dangerous sky
And in those foreign fields many good comrades lie.
And so they come to remember, those comrades one and all …
To them they are forever young men … Straight and Tall