The grass cut like a bowling green. The neatest grass I’ve ever seen.
The trees are trimmed and straight of line. The neatest place, it’s quite sublime.
The birds all sing their sweetest songs, the place where calm and peace belongs.
The paths kept clear, the leaves removed. There is no space to be improved.
The people come and spend their time, in settings peaceful and divine.
They come and go alone and in groups, to stand and remember our fallen troops.
The stones are white and stand in line, the stones of honour marking time.
The place for hero’s who rest their heads, a place for us to respect our dead.
Our fathers, brothers, and sons abide and lie with friends there, side by side.
Sweet tunes of birds that fill the sky with hero’s songs and lullabies.
In foreign fields the white stones stand, so well attended by caring hands.
The grass cut like a bowling green, the most peaceful place I’ve ever been.
RIP Brave Soldiers