Smoke billowed through the trees
On a distant burning hill
Thunder rolled upon the wind
Death has had it's fill

The embers glowed beneath the earth
Blood seeped into the ground
Restless souls gathered and mustered in
To hear the final trumpet sound

Their clothes were torn and stained with red
They were cut and bruised and maimed
They cast their eyes upon empty shells
They no longer felt the pain

They joined the ranks of heroes gone
As one by one they fell
Upon that distant burning hill
no one was left to tell

Bullets fell like rain that morn
they charged, They Bled, They died
As one they fought 'til all hope was gone
They died there side by side

This is just a piece of war
that history may never unfold
about the spirit of freedoms Sons
That A Nation buried instead of told

Once upon a smoldering hill
they marched toward the Heavens one and all,
Comforted as they listened to the voice
Of the Master's cadence call.

Richard D. Preston

Page created: Sunday, 11 February 2001

~ Music ~



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