Hearts of pride, and flag in hand,
we will wave as they march by.
Many of us, will see them home,
but some of us will cry.
Some of us will stand before,
polished stones in tidy rows.
And like those words chiselled deep,
the sorrow will never go.
So please, oh mister President,
or Prime Minister if be it so,
Before you send our braves away,
be sure they have to go.