Voices from the battlefield still speak, once more they say,
remember well, For your tomorrow we gave our today,
In foreign lands we did not know, our loved ones worlds away,
We gave up our tomorrow for the hope of your new day.
Don’t waste this gift which many souls in sacrifice have paid,
Or like the sepia photograph on mantle shelf that fades,
we’ll be consigned to history, just a name on granite stone.
Another unknown soldier with no one now to mourn.
We die that many years from now, when children ask, what for?
In courage you will tell the true obscenity of war.
We pray they will not recognise the horrors we must face,
that from their place in history such bloodshed has no place.
No orphans born of conflicts, or widows weeds to shield
From pain of blooded corpses on some other foreign field.
We sing of Tipperary, it speaks our hope of home
Our dream for children’s children on this battlefield lay sown.
Please God, may such barbarity, such fear and pain and sorrow,
when Last Post sounds for me tonight, speak peace for their tomorrow.