I can remember when the Chelsea Pensioners were queued out the entrances as their colleagues were at the seats at the front at the Albert Hall during the British Legion Remembrance Night. They went with songs to the battle, they were young. Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow. They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted, They fell with their faces to the foe. They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old: Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn. At the going down of the sun and in the morning, We will remember them. They mingle not with their laughing comrades again; They sit no more at familiar tables of home; They have no lot in our labour of the day-time; They sleep beyond Englands foam
Posted on: Sat, 08 Nov 2014 21:43:30 +0000
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