By "Top" Shultz
Hear the wailing on the wind,
As marching men draw near;
See their faces stern and clear,
In their eyes you see no fear.
No matter what their state of mind,
No matter what they've come to do;
Be assured they'll follow through,
War for them is nothing new.
At rest, at peace, you may be now,
But there inside for none to see;
There is the urge to follow through,
To help another to be free.
For those who follow onto them,
Will hear the pounding of the feet;
As they march again to war,
For them there will be no retreat.
If you have never heard the sound,
And in your hands you've held no steel;
Blood boiling in your very soul,
You've had no feeling that is real.
But those that lived a life of pain,
To those that live but not in vain;
Who've known the pipes along the trail,
Who follow them and will not fail.
To those I say these words so true,
For they must do what they must do;
A life, a home, can not be settled,
Follow the sound till they are through.
And, as we're lain down in our dotage,
To another place in time;
And hear the pipes again still calling,
We'll march again to them in kind.