Did they Beat the drum slowly, did the play the pipes lowly?
Did the rifles fire o’er you as they lowered you down?
Did the bugles sound The Last Post in chorus?
Did the pipes play the Flowers of the Forest?
And did you leave a wife or a sweetheart behind
In some loyal heart is your memory enshrined?
And, though you died back in 1916,
To that loyal heart are you forever 19?
Or are you a stranger without even a name,
Forever enshrined behind some glass pane,
In an old photograph, torn and tattered and stained,
And fading to yellow in a brown leather frame?
Lyrics from the green fields of France, the last 4 lines I find especially sad. I am taking pupils to Belgium next year, including some who could never afford it thanks to the grant given to every school in Britain. From that point of view, I am glad that the aniversary is being marked. There will never be anything like visiting a war grave to explain more powerfully the cost of war in a far more eloquent way than any book ever could.