Sound the Last Post again, lest we forget
the freedom that we cherish has been bought –
not found like mushrooms in the field; the debt
is ours to pay, mindful of those who fought
and fell – yet still they held the torch aloft!
May we remain as zealous to withstand
the traitors who would make our fibres soft,
as well as enemies beyond the land.
The trumpet has the power to move us still,
and though the debris of a flood of years
lies over hand and mind, an aching thrill
comes rising perilously close to tears.
Sound the Last Post to hold the memory bright,
then sound the Rouse and keep the torch alight.