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I stood at the grave side, where an old soldier lay
And for his country his life he gave
His words rang loud and clear, I remember them so,
Tell me my son, where do old soldiers go?
Tell me my son, what do old soldiers do?
Will we be remembered or simply fade from view?
Are we still thought of or just a memory,
Or are we forgotten in life's forgetting sea?
We did our very best for our fellow man,
We fought with all our might, with a strong and mighty hand,
We gave all that we had that freedom may flow,
But tell me my son, where do old soldiers go?
We carried old glory, upon every hill she did wave,
We made the greatest sacrifice, our life we freely gave,
The blood of our comrades, of each was spilled.
To complain, no-not ever, in our hearts we were thrilled.
As I go towards the sunset, my eyes looking towards the sky,
A big lump in my throat, a tear in my eye,
I see the hand of God, He is leading me home,
To rest there eternally, and never to roam.
So hear me now my son, please listen to every word,
May you never forget us, and that which you have heard,
May we never be forgotten, may our words always abide
Deep within your heart, these words you may want to hide,
Old soldiers don't go away forgotten,
Eternally we will never roam,
For Jesus has remembered us,
And He has gave us an eternal home. |
