jj
11-11-2009, 07:17 AM
A moving video was playing when I turned on the TV this morn:
http://www.cbc.ca/remember/
Bringin' Buddy Home (John McDermott)
Somewhere between earth and heaven
The C-17 flies,
Heading westward homeward
Through clean, clear, safe blue skies
At the back of the airplane
Lying alone
Draped in his country’s flag
They’re bringing Buddy home.
Somewhere between tears and heartbreak,
A lifetime sorrow just begun
Grieving, disbelieving,
As parents wait to welcome home their son.
And pray for the strength
Somehow to face the days ahead
While heading westward homeward,
The Nation’s bringing home its dead.
When the rifles fire the volley
At the word of command
When they fold up Old Glory
And they place it in your hand
You can cry then,
And say goodbye then,
For Buddy’s now a name on a cold marble stone
And he’s never, never, never coming home.
Somewhere between fear and hatred
The black heart of war lies
Growing blacker, stronger,
With every young man who dies.
Far back from the airfield,
At their post in the combat zone,
His comrades wonder,
Who’ll be the next one going home.
When the rifles fire the volley
At the word of command
When they fold up Old Glory
And they place it in your hand
You can cry then,
And say goodbye then,
For Buddy’s now a name on a cold marble stone
And he’s never, never, never coming home.
http://www.cbc.ca/remember/
Bringin' Buddy Home (John McDermott)
Somewhere between earth and heaven
The C-17 flies,
Heading westward homeward
Through clean, clear, safe blue skies
At the back of the airplane
Lying alone
Draped in his country’s flag
They’re bringing Buddy home.
Somewhere between tears and heartbreak,
A lifetime sorrow just begun
Grieving, disbelieving,
As parents wait to welcome home their son.
And pray for the strength
Somehow to face the days ahead
While heading westward homeward,
The Nation’s bringing home its dead.
When the rifles fire the volley
At the word of command
When they fold up Old Glory
And they place it in your hand
You can cry then,
And say goodbye then,
For Buddy’s now a name on a cold marble stone
And he’s never, never, never coming home.
Somewhere between fear and hatred
The black heart of war lies
Growing blacker, stronger,
With every young man who dies.
Far back from the airfield,
At their post in the combat zone,
His comrades wonder,
Who’ll be the next one going home.
When the rifles fire the volley
At the word of command
When they fold up Old Glory
And they place it in your hand
You can cry then,
And say goodbye then,
For Buddy’s now a name on a cold marble stone
And he’s never, never, never coming home.