| We are the army of the damned
|
| Men of a far forgotten land
|
| Thousands of years have passed us by
|
| And still you will hear our cry
|
| We left our homes to fight this war
|
| We don’t remember what ‘twas for
|
| Still we advance both day and night
|
| Until the time comes to fight
|
| And so they flee from us, our kindred and our kin
|
| They will not stand for us and all that we have been
|
| The blood will flow from us forever and a day
|
| Our oaths are broken by their sins
|
| We gave up all that we could give
|
| So that our children could but live
|
| We march forever to the drum
|
| Of battle that will not come
|
| We hear our lovers cry, though they are dead and gone
|
| We hear our comrades sing that everlasting song
|
| We cannot feel the sun though morning has just come
|
| We are but shadows of the past
|
| Will we find forgiveness, will we?
|
| Will we find forgiveness, will we?
|
| Have mercy on us Father forgive all these men
|
| Who cannot feel the sun though morning has just come
|
| We are but shadows of the past
|
| We are the army of the damned
|
| Men of a far forgotten land
|
| What I would give to see her face
|
| And love her once more
|
| Brian Blessed recites Siegfried Sassoon’s poem
|
| Suicide In The Trenches
|
| I knew a simple soldier boy
|
| Who grinned at life in empty joy
|
| Slept soundly through the lonesome dark
|
| And whistled early with the lark
|
| In winter trenches, cowed and glum
|
| With crumps and lice and lack of rum
|
| He put a bullet through his brain
|
| No one spoke of him again
|
| You smug-faced crowds with kindling eye
|
| Who cheer when soldier lads march by
|
| Sneak home and pray you’ll never know
|
| The hell where youth and laughter go |