Charlie Groombridge Centenary

The morning mist hangs in the sky, and yet more people come to die. I ask you now, what have they done to set themselves against the gun?

They fight because they’re forced by law, till leaders find a better cause. Taken from their country homes to go and face the great unknown.

After the war, where men fell dead came the poppies, so bright, so red. In the memory of where man’s been. In the memory of what he’s seen.

The trenches now are scars on the land, the ditches and holes grassy and bland, where just a hundred years ago men were running to and fro.

As it comes to this time of year, we’re so lucky. We have no fear. But then, what is remembering those who died serving their king?

For your tomorrow, their final say: they gave to you their final day.