a tale of them,who stood and fought and fell where they stood,indian soldier...
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HEWN IN WOOD
Not hewn in glittering gold nor shining silver,
precious marble nor shimmering stones,
This story is hewn in humble wood;
Of men who fought and fell where they stood,
In remote hills and lonely vales,
Deserted passes and lovely dales
They sweated ,cried and swore,
Fearlessly into the enemy they tore;
When slicing metal into their bodies tore,
And the battlefield was littered with gore,
As the valiant heart gave out and the eyes glazed out;
They rallied the standing with a final shout;
C'mon one more time ,let us be born,
To stride fearlessly into battle once more,
To fight a good fight,in this fading light;
And thus does the bard sing this song,
Hewn not in gold nor shimmering stone,
Burnt by departing comrades on a humble log,
That for eternity stands tall,
To tell the tale of these warriors proud!
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Dear Avinashjee and Womanslove,
thank you for the encouragement,
regards
Q
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